Croix Insepency
by T.L. Arens
Summary: G1. Fleeing the Quintesson's ravenous invasion, the Autobots are trapped on an abandoned, isolated science lab. The Matrix Virus is on the hunt, the station is haunted and Magnus faces mutiny. Chapter 12 of Dark Storm Rising.
1. ADAGIO

**Author's Note:** This is Dark Storm Rising Chapter 12, not a stand-alone story. Due to the extensive length, it was necessary to make Croix Insepency its own title with sub-chapters.** Warning: **psychological and medical horror.

Croix Insepency

ADAGIO

The spiritually dead cursed the name of their creator and defied laws specified against generating new species. Anything wrought of the spiritually dead came devoid of soul; the initial definition of 'monster'.

The First Ones, the Old Ones, had the power and permission to procreate and breathe life into all things insentient. But many of the Old Ones, led by Son of the Dawn, counted the laws unfair. They were, after all, endowed with gifts. In their arrogance, they chose rebellion and brought forth Things from the darkness of their own soul.

Old Ones such as the Randuuth Alveem and the Eeiithuu birthed into the universe abominations such as the Oco Dygaluu (called The Burd) and Pryth, the alter on which sacred things were sacrificed.

Unsatisfied with their insentient creations, the Old Ones tore archways into other dimensions. They encountered Nameless Things, bred with them and issued forth the Ah-Raun, the Mornorth and the Inoux.

The Inoux lived outside the light; their souls long burnt by the deeds and teachings of their parent races. Against the governing of their conscious, they traded arrangements and pacts with other species of similar ilk such as the Whrog, the Therskani and super creatures such as the Randuuth Alveem.

One such arrangement included the black market trade of DNA. The Randuuth Alveem never disclosed the reasons behind their desire for specimens. But they always paid well.

No timetable exists to pinpoint the moment when the Randuuth-Alveem, the Quintessons, successfully created the one life form they believed capable of life-force destruction.

The Virus resembled a blob of dark blood. It ate. Pleased with the results of thousands and thousands of laborious years. The Quintessons implanted their corrupted anti-life form into a life-giving entity.

They waited several years.

It sat, dormant, adjusting to its new environment while life force energies bathed it with life and breath. It ate.

It ate. Then it took breath.

Little by little, the Virus devoured light and it breathed in those things of the soul. The Virus, now affected by the breath and the light, learned. It grew and learned and rather than eat, the Virus stole and devoured.

At what point did It take on a name?

It was not a name but knowledge of Its occupation. For the object grew and touched by life, it became aware. It was Void and Darkness; a hole in the light, a parasite. It understood.

It knew the Matrix and thrived and devoured each spectrum of light, took in every breath until It knew Optimus Prime.

And Void grew; a thing wrought of evil intent planted in the womb of an entity possessing self awareness.

It knew Rodimus Prime.

Void learned movement and control and slipped from space to space. It played in the shadows and crevices of those areas now devoid of Matrix energy. The Virus devoured and grew, festered and disrupted thought. The Virus secreted sadness and fed on despair. It tore holes in hope and joy and gorged on the blood of a broken heart.

Then Void encountered a Human.

Not that the Virus knew anything of flesh and blood. It had no capacity or vocabulary with which to deal with an alien. Void was not initially programed to deal with other life forms or possible encounters. So it did nothing but stare and struggle to ponder. After all, its feeding ground lay along Cybertronian life force frequencies.

And because of that very fact, Void waxed strong and stepped outside it hunting grounds. It learned and expanded and upon its expansion, discovered the rich smell of despair, self loathing and depression.

The Virus found for itself a new ground upon which to feed. Oh, it tasted quite different from Rodimus Prime and Optimus Prime. Very different, but no less fulfilling.

It neither annoyed nor frustrated Void that It could not pronounce Sunstreaker's name.

"Choth, ime pyr croix insepency."

"Choth, ime pyr croix insepency."

"Choth, ime pyr croix insepency."

Jasmine Goodwin sat in her customary position and rocked back and forth. Her long, unkempt hair hung limp over her shoulders and back. Her eyes, reddened by lack of sleep, stared into nothing. Her ashen face resembled a death mask.

The lanky woman did little more than sit and rock, repeating the phrase over and over; a mantra from lips so thin, they almost lost their color.

The alien female, assigned to care for the quieter half of Jasmine shook her head, sadly frustrated. Ms. Bla'Antha was visiting Fort Sonix when death and hades rained on Earth. She lost everything and volunteered to watch over the unfortunate human lady whose body, mind and soul split during the ion storm on Cratis. It broke Bla'Antha's heart to watch day by day as Goodwin faded from life and reality. The EDC officer's case study, now logged into the files of Autobot science journals, promised to tell of her memory as a curious phenomena. But the journals said little of her suffering. Whatever hell Goodwin endured, articulated or not, lay between the soft-spoken repetition of her quieter half and the ear-shattering screams spewed through spasms of insanity by the other.

"Choth ime pyr croix insepency."

"Jasmine, hon, I managed to find some fruit juice for you. I'd really hate to inject fluids into you again, Dear. But you need something. Jasmine?"

"Choth ime pyr croix insepency."

Bla'Antha offered a watery smile, her large green eyes batted back tears. "How about you and me go for a short walk? It'll do you some good."

"Choth ime pyr croix insepency."

It hurt Bla'Antha to admit that Jasmine, who walked and talked not more than two days ago, wasted to nothing. The alien care provider wondered everyday if that day was the one she'd find Jasmine dead. "Hon, I-I'm going to be right back, all right?"

Bla'Antha left the cell. The door clanged cold behind her; the sound echoed in Jasmine's mind. She stopped rocking. A vision shot through her mind as if she traveled through time. She stood in a room filled with cages and prisons. Light flooded the place devoid of occupants.

"Criox..." Jasmine froze. The vision shifted to walls and floors painted in blood. Distant screams demanded help or the cessation of torture.

"Croix..." other voices called, alarmed over an untranslatable event.

"Croix..." Jasmine heard the cacophony of klaxon alarms, people cried in terror.

"Croix..." some invisible force swallowed them, not just the sound, but their whole selves, vanished from existence.

All strength and life drained from Jasmine as her breath left her. "Croix insepency."

The insane side of Goodwin stopped shrieking and died with her eyes wide open. Jasmine's quieter side flopped bonelessly to one side.

The singularity emanated from the alien ship shot forth and enveloped the entire Autobot fleet in a burst of light, gravity and quanta-dimensional radiation.

Magnus woke first. Pain tapped across his form like billions of heated needles jammed into his sensors. He struggled against the fire and writhed along the floor. He lifted one trembling arm toward the closest wall, seeking reality in the form of physical stability. "Mozart," he weakly called, "release... release... the fire extinguishers... code Senior Alpha, fourteen... chan."

RECOGNIZE CODE SENIOR ALPHA FOURTEEN CHAN

Soothing, fire-retardant water bathed the walls and floors in the bridge and along the main deck. Magnus rolled onto his back and reveled in coolant half a moment before sternly ordering himself up and at the controls.

"Ambient, up and at it, Soldier. Now."

The communications officer stifled a moan as she forced herself back into her chair. She winced and lifted her face toward the coolant. "Sir?"

"Contact the other ships. Get me Jazz, first."

"Aye, sir."

Magnus patched into the ship's main system and ordered coolant released on all decks. He patched into ship-wide communication: "This is Ultra Magnus. Report to your deck supervisors immediately. I want status reports in ten minutes. Science officer, report to the bridge. I repeat, science officer, report to the bridge."

"Sir," Ambient twisted round as she forced herself to keep moving. "All ships computers responding under duress, sir. The Dancing Siren is reporting engine failure." she paused, head bowed then met her commander's optics. "I have Jazz, sir."

"Good. I want you to access all other ship's computers and order coolant release on all decks." Magnus forced himself to stand as he faced Jazz on the main viewer.

"_What the hell jes' happened?_" Jazz's frame smoldered. His navigation consol snapped with damage.

"Jazz, are you receiving us?"

"_Yeah, I see your ugly mug, Magnus. An' I gotta ship full of overheated Autobots and three dead Eurians_." Jazz unexpectedly slumped in relief as his ship's coolant systems rained on all decks. "Oh, that was an awesome idea," he mumbled.

"I need your help, Jazz."

"_I'm already there, Big-M. Gimme ten an' I'll get ya reports from my side a' things._"

Jazz signed off and Magnus slumped just enough to soften pain. "Ambient... contact Optimus, if you can."

"Working on it, Sir." Her fingers typed along the console while Magnus claimed his seat.

Magnus undid a small compartment in his chair and produced a datatablet just as the bridge doors swished open.

"Pyrite reporting, sir," the young Autobot declared.

Magnus did not look at him. "Why weren't you on the bridge to begin with, Pyrite?" he asked dangerously.

"Investigating a case of power crystals from the alien ship-oh, Primus."

Magnus shot a glance in the science officer's direction then followed his shocked gaze to the main viewer. An object swiftly approached their trajectory. "What the Pitt...?" All the stars vanished as a rocky grey object neared the fleet. Magnus took to his feet while Pyrite flew to his station. "Ambient," the Major-general called, "get me Optimus Prime."

"Trying, sir. But I have a lot of electromagnetic interference-"

"Pyrite!" Magnus' impatience ate at him.

"On it, Sir! It's a solid mass comprised of nickel, agate, brannerite and... and gold, Sir. But um, more than that..." Pyrite magnified the object in question, "...it's an asteroid with what looks like a science station." Silence followed Pyrite's report. The image depicted a series of circular buildings and a large glass dome. Landing pads stretched in three directions, clearly illuminated with phosphate and magnesium lighting.

Navigation officer, Traffik gasped and punched his controls. "Tractor beam, Ultra Magnus! We're being pulled in!"

"Reverse thrusters! Ambient, have you-"

"No, Sir. We're being hailed by the Hannibal's Mark."

"On viewer."

Gryph's frightened optics came up. "_Magnus!_" Static distorted her voice and face.

"Gryph, what's wrong?"

"_All 'r weapons... been disabled... 'peat, wea-ns dis..._" Her voice faded out.

"Traffik, get me an outside view of the Mark." Magnus waited point six seconds and the bridge crew watched as the powerful Autobot ship, the Hannibal's Mark lost all power and raced for the science station.

"Sir!' Ambient cried, "I got something on subspace frequencies, but it's not Optimus Prime-"

The Sagittarian Mozart lost all her power. The bridge snapped into darkness and the ship rammed though space out of control.

_All things hungry hunt. But not all hunting is from the hungry._ _Can't choose. Hungry? Or just hunt? Can't choose._

Optimus stared at the Virus as it sat in front of him, legs folded in a relaxed manner, too much like a cat. "Why are you asking me?" He felt no fear for the moment. The freakish creature displayed no ill intent.

_We consider... we ask... we..._ Void tilted its head and though Optimus read no expression on the faceless monster, he suspected the Virus struggled to reason, if that was possible among the insentient. _We can't choose._

"You mean you do not know if you hunt because you are hungry, or that you're hungry because you hunt?"

_Explain._

"If you hunt because you are hungry, you are fulfilling need. If you are hungry because you hunt, you are fulfilling desire."

_Desire. Need. Same thing._

"No. Need is survival. Desire is lust."

_Lust._

"Something you want but do not need." Optimus watched Void as the creepy dark Virus rose upon thin legs and scratched the floor. It settled back down and to Prime's horror, he saw a set of burnt red eyes open along its folded facial rims. They did not glow.

_Hunger for sustenance. Hunger for death. Hunger for fear. Hunger for control. All hunger. All desire. All lust._

"No," Optimus objected. "Hunger for sustenance is survival. Survival is not wrong. Lust is wrong."

_Explain._

Optimus hesitated. "... explain what is wrong, or explain why?"

"_Ssss...sss...nnnn. Sssss. Sssss...nnnnn. He said 'go-and-die'. We think wrong. We object."_

Again Optimus hesitated. "Explain."

_Confusing._

Optimus thought it through and realized what the Virus attempted. "You are trying to reason. But you can't. You have no soul. Concepts such as morality, right verses wrong are beyond your ability to comprehend. You understand death as only something to fear. You see death as _unlife_. You have no concept of God. You are not even at the level of an animal and that makes you an abomination-"

_Explain concept. Explain morality. Explain right and wrong. Explain death, explain abomination. Explain God._

Optimus did not answer. The dialog unsettled him. If the Virus were planted in the Matrix, chances were, the Matrix breathed enough life into it to give the Virus abilities and a limited mentality. But soulless, the monster's conceptual reality only reached the point of its initial DNA programming. It tried to learn more, like a five year-old looking at a university-level medical text book. The child saw the pictures and diagrams, but could not read or understand the text.

Void stirred again, unruffled by Optimus' silence. "_Ssss...nnnn. Sss...nnnn spoke 'go-and-die'_."

"Death." Optimus corrected.

"_Death."_

"Unlife."

_Unlife. Death. Unlife. Death. Unlife is death._

"Yes."

Void stilled itself for a very long time until it stirred again. _Hungry from hunting makes unlife. But hunting from hungry makes unlife, too. Both unlife._

"But one of them is wrong."

_Why?_

"You do not need to hunger for the hunt."

_HEAD-ON COLLISION TO COMMENCE IN SIX POINT TWO MINUTES._

_RACING BEAST__... CLOSING IN ON __RAZOR LADY__..._

_...DO YOU COPY?_

_...CAN'T CONTACT!_

"_Choth, ime pyr croix insepency." _

"_Choth, ime pyr croix insepency." _

Rusti rolled over with a weak moan. Her face and hands hurt. Her ears and eyes burned. "Shut up," she muttered.

_COMMUNICATION AMBIGUOUS. FREQUENCY CONFUSION. NO KNOWN LANGUAGE. DATE AND TIME INCOMPATIBILITY. ATTEMPTING TO COMPENSATE._

In spite of a throbbing head, Rusti forced herself upon hands and knees. The Autobots around her lay in the web of unconsciousness. The shuttle offered no light, emergency or otherwise. Rusti had no idea how her exosuit still functioned when everything else lost power.

She staggered to her feet and cast her eyes upon the plank. They never even left the alien craft.

"Hey!" someone waved in her direction. "Come and play with me!" The sound of a bouncing ball followed the invitation.

"What?" Rusti leaned against the hatchway and searched the docking bay. At first her scanners picked up nothing. Then her eyes spotted the unmistakable figure of Trevor Tolomsky. He grinned and bounced the ball again.

"This can't be right," Rusti told herself. "I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"You think too much, Girl," he jeered. "Come and play with me."

"I don't normally play with hallucinations or ghosts." she replied dully.

"You know what your problem is, Rusti?"

"This should be good," she again said to herself.

"You deny the possibilities of things, people and events outside your experience." he approached the plank but did not step onto it. Trevor looked every bit as alive as the last day she saw him. He even tossed her that weird lopped grin guys used in a light hearted greeting.

"I don't see how that's your concern, even if it were true. And why am I dreaming or imagining you?"

"Because if I looked like Cody Greydon, you'd freak out." he nodded toward the ship's bridge. "Come on. Come play with me."

"Not until I've rationalized this through," Rusti stubbornly replied. "What do you think I am, anyway, twelve?"

"No," Trevor answered simply. "You're a mature seventeen year-old Human female. Physically, you're about twenty-one. And you're wishing you could have sex with the Autobot with whom you exchanged vows."

Rusti's cheeks burned brightly. "Whoa! Okay! We are not where we thought we were, are we?"

"Nope."

"So... who are you and were are we?"

Trevor grinned and again nodded toward the bridge. "Come and play with me first, then I'll tell you."

She smiled in spite of her embarrassment. "Okay. As long as you promise not to eat me or suck me into a black hole or turn me into something-anything-gross."

Trevor laughed. "Not my style, Rusti. Come on." She followed him to the bridge but hesitated to follow him to the navigation bar. He turned, puzzled. "What's wrong?"

"You're neither a ghost or a hallucination," she deduced. "What are you?"

He shrugged. "I'm a psychic projection. I knew you were here and I wanted to communicate. You're very smart and you're trained enough I felt I could trust you."

Rusti looked cross. "Trust is an issue dealt in time. And instead of giving me an answer, you created more questions." She caught the ball when he tossed it her way. She spun it once then tossed it back.

"I'm sorry you're even here, Rusti. I really am. There's nothing I can do for you, no way I can help you except to greet you and tell you how nice it is to meet someone different."

She caught the ball again. "Well, that's a start. So, where am I?"

"The one place no one wants to be."

Rusti threw the ball so that it bounced once before reaching Trevor's hands. "Okay. That's not so clear. That means we're either in a black hole in space or dead."

Trevor quietly smirked. "Or worse than either; a laboratory."

She caught the ball and hesitated. "A science lab?"

"Bare Anches."

Rusti's blood pressure dropped to her feet, her eyes shot wide. "That's... that's what... No! Oh no!" She ran off even as Trevor called after.

Optimus found Roddi sitting on the grassy knoll out along the western acres several yards from the football field. He marched up to one yard from his peer and stood still.

"Hey," he hailed uncharacteristically.

"Hey," Roddi bounced back. He twirled a twig between his fingers as he watched clouds along the horizon drift across the lazy springtime sky. Optimus settled beside him and stayed quiet.

They watched a brown hawk sail into view. It circled the valley several times, flapped its wings and softly called to the winds. It disappeared long before Rodimus broke the communication silence.

"I miss this place. The river, the valley, the predictability, such as it was."

"Approximately twenty-five years of it," Optimus softly added.

"Yeah." Roddi dropped his side of the conversation for several moments. Optimus swept his optics north along the mountain range. "You know," the Second Prime finally said, "even if, or when, we get back, nothing will be the same. For all we know, this valley doesn't exist any more."

"Change is the only constant, Rodimus."

"Yeah. I know. But sometimes I wish the universe would just hit the pause button, you know?" He did not need to see Optimus nod to know the Senior Prime agreed. Rodimus wanted to share something more, something deeper. And while he knew Optimus understood the necessity of confidentiality, sometimes Rodimus feared his friend's response. Not that Optimus ever threw anything in his face. Ever. But that often Optimus' silence hurt more; the emotional distance irritated him. On the other hand, Rodimus supposed he deserved it from time to time. If he and Optimus were two peas in a pod, they'd be different colors.

"Our time is running out," Optimus said to instigate the conversation anew.

Rodimus sadly nodded. "I left instructions for Magnus, Jazz and Kup." he paused. "You know what kicks my aft in all this, Op?"

"You never got that new paint job?"

Rodimus half-glared because the remark was funny but he wasn't in the mood for a light-hearted conversation.

Optimus tilted his head toward his friend. "I know," he said instead of apologizing, "wrong time and place."

Roddi smiled anyway. "Not at all. It's just that it sounds like something Rusti would say." he watched the Senior Prime drop his head with a single nod. "What I WAS going to say, smart ass, is what kicks my aft is how I survived so much before, only to be taken down by something I truly can't control. It's like the Hate Plague all over again. There are no answers, only more questions. And the questions make my head spin. And events move so fast that when it's over, when the storm is over, I'm lying in the middle of a highway wondering what hit me."

Optimus nodded again but did not meet Roddi's optics. "I get flashes of the Quintesson faces. They speak, but never to me. They converse in muttered tones, drowned and distorted. I actually hate their native language."

Rodimus found no words strong or sincere enough to comfort his friend. Besides, how could he comfort Optimus when he himself found none? He leaned over, head bowed. What were they to do? What could they do? He and Optimus stared insanity and death in the face, their people: extinction.

Optimus spoke again, slow and sad. "You should-and need to know, Rodimus, that the Hate Plague was not your fault. Sometimes things go horribly wrong. I am not here because you were incompetent, but because you were resourceful and solved a problem by thinking outside the box. You are who and what you are long before the Matrix chose you as Prime. I believe that even without the Matrix, you still would have been an Autobot leader."

At first Rodimus brushed off Optimus' comments as nothing more than a sympathetic pep-talk. But a strong sense of deja-vu struck him and Roddi's insides turned to ice. Where could he have possibly heard Optimus say something like that before? He kept the Deja-vu-thing to himself and sent Optimus a wry smile. "You're my chum, Op," he said in as casual a tone as his heart mustered. "When I die and end up in the Pitt, I'll be sure to tell everyone that I'm the luckiest SOB in the galaxy." He nudged Prime's arm then turned serious. "I'm glad you're willing to forgive me."

Optimus hesitated. "You don't think you deserve it?"

"Op, you have no idea what I did under the influence."

"I see. So you think your deeds and sins are so bad they can't be forgiven? As if I were any better?"

Rodimus shot him a glare. "We both do it," he kept his voice quiet because he did not want to start an argument.

Optimus nodded. "Yes we do."

Awkward silence held the air between them before Rodimus spoke again. "So, have you forgiven yourself for everything you've done?"

Prime did not answer right away. He lifted his optics to the darkening horizon where the storm brewed dangerous along the mountains. "I have moved forward, but I have not forgotten."

Rodimus shook his head. "It doesn't make any difference." his expression turned from somber to pained. "It's all too late..." his voice drowned as his color churned from happiness to grey. From grey to black Rodimus' body melted. The sky brooded in abysmal dark and Optimus choked with grief.

Rodimus sat up as though a circuit shorted, shocking his system out of the Matrix dream. His intake closed incorrectly and he choked and coughed. Movement in the dark caused him to shiver. Not that he was afraid, but that Optimus' slow-motion movements gave tell-tale signs of something not completely _him_.

The Senior Prime spoke to a fallen and rattled Cloudstreaker with soft, deep tones. "Are you damaged at all?"

"No," came her wilting reply. "I don't think so. Someone-ow! Someone sucked everything out of me and something shocked-ow!" she whined in pain, as though burdened and tormented. "I just... I just need to rest, I think."

Rodimus' head cleared and forced himself to his feet. Optimus helped Cloudy and Pontiac while Roddi opened the shuttle's access panel. A mental image of Void's head slipping through the back wall flashed through the Autobot leader's mind. He tried to resist glancing over his shoulder but did so anyway. He was not amused when Optimus stared at the very same area at the same time. They crossed glances but said nothing.

Galvatron stirred, sat up with effort and languidly pushed Highbrow off his legs. He winced and rubbed a dented shoulder. "Erm... where's Rusti?" he received both Prime's surprised, highly-lit optics.

"Optimus," Roddi called.

"I'm on it," Optimus answered instantly. But he didn't have to do anything. Rusti ran back to the shuttle, shouting incoherently. She climbed the plank and almost ran into Rodimus.

"Get this thing out of here! We have to leave NOW!"

Rodimus stepped back, almost as surprised as she when the girl almost ran into him. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Calm down there, Girl! Deep breath, clear your head and speak in slow-mo."

Rusti stared hard into his optics. "Somehow we ended up at Bare Anches. We HAVE TO LEAVE."

"Okay," Roddi sang. "Just ah, shrink us down, grow wings and fly us back into space."

Optimus caught Cloudstreaker when she stood and wavered. He set her in the navigation chair. "Rusti where did you go?"

She heard 'Sweetheart' in that phrase, though he did not say it. "I... uh... a hallucination asked me to go play with him." Of course, they all stared at her, either baffled, confused or in disbelief.

A tall shape flickered out of nowhere. Rusti gasped while Galvatron and Rodimus pointed weapons at the source. The light vanished and the group held their proverbial collective breath. The light flickered to life again and the static image of a Quintesson appeared in perfect three-dimension.

"_Greetings, visitors. We welcome you to our new, fully-equipped space lab. For your convenience, we have installed a series of visitor's quarters and added many creature-comforts we hope will be to your liking as you tour our facility. We are confident that you will find something here you'd either like to invest in or purchase right from the hands of our friendly and courteous staff._ _If you have further questions, do not hesitate to ask. We look forward to serving you."_

The image vanished. Optimus studied the dead craft's control consol while Rodimus stowed his weapon away.

"I think we took the wrong flight to China."

Optimus did not turn to Roddi [_we need to contact Magnus_.]

A rumbling clang echoed through all metal walls and tossed the Autobots off balance. Galvatron shoved Highbrow off with a dirty look. "I have a feeling we just landed," he groused.

"Landed?" Rodimus glanced in Pontiac's direction, making sure the techie was okay.

"On the science station," Galvatron clarified. "The alien ship was hijacked and used as a ruse and a rendevous point for the more scrupulous customer."

Rodimus sent him a cold glare. "Why am I not surprised you know so much about Quintesson operations?"

"Cuz I subscribed to their newsletter, _Tentacle Quarterly_. Even saw a recipe for roast Prime. It calls for too much radium, if you ask me."

Rodimus opened his mouth to make a retort but Optimus intervened before a sound came forth: "It does us no good to sit here with a powerless shuttle. You two, Highbrow and Pontiac will make a cursory reconnaissance. Cloudstreaker, Rusti and I will remain here and try to reach Magnus and get this shuttle operational."

Rodimus waited for the other three to disembark before turning to Prime and communicated internally. [_You should not have come along.]_

Prime glanced at him, ignoring how Rusti watched their silent behavior. [_Sometimes I need some fresh air._]

Rodimus slightly shrugged. [_fair enough._] He joined the recon team and Optimus turned back to the shuttle's control consol.

Cloudstreaker grunted with frustration. "I can't get the engines online, Commander. There's not so much as a blip of response."

"Let's forego the engines at the moment, Cloudstreaker. What's the first thing you do when stranded and alone?"

"Shelter."

"No."

Cloudstreaker stared at him for a moment, confused. "Medical assessment?"

"Not unless it's life-threatening," Optimus answered as he tried several options to get the computer working again.

She watched his movements before the answer dawned on her. "Communications."

"That's correct."

"I can get back-up battery power." she watched him nod in approval before exiting her station and tearing into a bulkhead panel along the bow.

Prime glanced back at Rusti who sat quietly against the wall, watching him with slight trepidation. "Rusti?" She forced on a smile, indicating she was willing to help. "I need readings; something that will give me a clue as to what's going on around us."

With a silent nod, she pushed off the floor and listened to everything around them. The shuttle itself had nothing to say except a complaint about Cloudstreaker breaking into a sensitive area. Rusti left the shuttle but thought it wise to stay within the Autobots' scanning range. She paced around the ship and reached out, listening to the Imperium. But all the alien ship had to say was that it was home and now waited for further orders.

_CONNECTING..._

Rusti blinked, still taken aback by the indescribable sensation. She understood what the ships said, but didn't know how she understood. It frustrated her that she could not tell which vessel spoke.

_ATTACHING POWERLINES..._

She watched the shuttle, waiting for more information.

_INITIATING BACK-UP BATTERY. SYSTEMS RUNNING. SYSTEMS ONLINE. POWER OUTPUT: SIXTY PERCENT. _

That was the shuttle. Rusti lifted her eyes upward. The Imperium's shuttle bay ceiling rose higher than her exosuit's visual range.

_COMPILING INFORMATION. COMPILING INFORMATION, TWENTY PERCENT. FORTY PERCENT. NINETY PERCENT. UPLOADING. DEFRAGING... DEFRAGING COMPLETE._ AWAITING DOWNLOAD AND COORDINATES.

That had to be the Imperium. Who or what was it speaking to? Rusti wandered twenty feet from the shuttle. "Hello?" she whispered. "How long have you been here and doing this? Do you intentionally abduct people, or are you just doing a job?"

A glimmer of light flickered to her left but by the time Rusti turned, it was gone.

Screams from the tormented captives shot through her head like the flash of a camera. Rusti flinched as though someone pricked her with a needle then yanked it out. "How long have you been here?" she repeated. "Years? Decades? Centuries? Megania?"

The Quintesson's demonic Face of Hate blinked just as fast through her mind and Rusti yelped with surprise. The Imperium communicated in spurts of photo-memory. Rusti hugged herself tightly. "They must have tortured everyone on this ship before killing them," she said out loud. Deciding standing anywhere by herself was not such a good idea, the young lady retreated to the shuttle and breathed a short sigh of relief. She lined her lips in an attempted smile when Prime turned to her. "When do you think we'll be leaving?"

He did not return her smile but faced her wholly while Cloudstreaker kept working. "You're not leaving," he answered deadpan.

"What?"

"We keep all the finest specimens for breeding."

Rusti jumped with a gasp and found herself sitting against the shuttle's bulkhead, tucked into a dark corner. Optimus and Cloudstreaker worked on the control panel, not noticing a single thing. The young lady slumped forward, chilled by the nightmare.

Prime found her and slightly tilted his head in concern. "Are you all right, Rusti?"

"Ask me again when we're off this ship." She met Cloudstreaker's confused gaze but said nothing more. The shuttle's control consol hummed to life. All scanners coordinated and fed information on the main viewer.

"_...in... this is the __Sagittarian Mozart__, do you read? I repeat, Autobot shuttle __Hydroza__, this is the __Sagittarian Mozart_. _Come in, do you read me?"_

"This is Hydroza, Optimus Prime speaking, Sagittarian. Over."

"Oh! Optimus. Thank Primus. We've been trying to reach you for thirty minutes. Ultra Magnus-"

"Ambient, give me a status report," Optimus ordered without preamble.

"We've gone dark, Optimus. We're feeding off back-up reserves. The Hannibal's Mark was on a collision course with the asteroid the last time we spoke with her. Then the Dancing Siren lost all power. I can't raise anyone else. Ultra Magnus-"

"Steady at the helm," Optimus ordered. "Do not leave your post."

"Aye, sir."

"Stay on this frequency and inform me the millisecond you hear anything from the other ships."

"Aye, sir."

Optimus paused communications. "Cloudstreaker, what are you doing?"

"Well... we have no visuals. I thought if I were to patch into the navigational controls on the Imperium, we'll at least be able to see what's going on outside." Cloudy tugged herself out from under the control consol, stood and leaned against it. Doubt crossed her visor when she gazed at Prime.

"Do it," he said.

She pressed six buttons rigged to perform the new task. At first nothing happened. Then the main viewer flickered. Lines zipped up, down and horizontal before a picture faded forward from the snow. Sound followed. Static hissed and a _blip-snap_ hiccupped. An agonizing masculine shriek bellowed. Cloudy shuddered. Rusti covered her mouth, horrified.

A deep, panicking voice sounded over the screams. _"Melice adar! Melice adar! Ahban toi chatran: melice adar!" _The zap of a laser weapon cracked the air and the voice came back with a quiet growl, _"Croix insepency."_

The static snapped off, replaced by a series of hangers and towering buildings, signs and a well-lit landing pad on which the Imperium now rested. Prime, Cloudstreaker and Rusti stared at the view screen. The moment flipped as though someone changed channels on a TV.

Cloudstreaker's quiet voice filled the shuttle. "What did we just see?"

Optimus stirred in his chair as though waking from a shallow sleep. "A ghost transmission, I believe. We used to see them during the war on Cybertron; the last transmission before a ship or a facility exploded."

"Ghost transmission," Cloudy repeated. "That's a little... unnerving."

Optimus did not reply. He turned toward Rusti and stared. She returned his look but neither of them said a word. Cloudstreaker attended the board and sifted through transmission frequencies, hoping to hear from Rodimus and Galvatron soon.

Rusti sensed Optimus' inner conflict. He wanted to stay, he needed to go. By the sixth moment, Rusti pursed her lips. "Me and Cloudstreaker will stay here in the Hydroza, Optimus. Just let us know when it's safe to come out."

"None of us are safe, Rusti," he answered in a foreboding voice. That caught Cloudy's attention. She glanced, but said nothing. Prime stood and double checked his rifle. "Well, then. You ladies stay here. I'll contact you if I cannot immediately return."

Rusti watched him leave and forced fear back down her throat. The whole fiasco was her fault, even if no one said anything.


	2. CABRIOLE

A/N: I apologize in advance for any grammar mistakes or confusion in this chapter. I am currently working on my original novel. I thought I should at least post another chapter of my Transformers saga, so you'll all know I have not abandoned DSR. :)

-Tams!

CABRIOLE

Magnus jerked to life as though some universal remote control paused him then pushed 'play' again. As his systems rebooted, his bridge crew awoke in a similar groggy condition. They checked their bodies, their whereabouts, then each other.

Ambient automatically examined navigation, communication and the Mozart's general status. She looked to Magnus. "Sir, we've landed."

"Landed?"

"On that asteroid, Sir."

"Viewer on," he ordered. The screen flickered to life just as the rest of the ship's power kicked in. The bridge crew quietly cheered while Magnus scrutinized the viewer, confused. We didn't even feel the ship land, he said to himself. "Ambient, crew status." He pointed at the viewer as the image cleared. "There!" he called, "That's the Dancing Siren. Patch me in if you can."

"Aye, Sir."

"_...read you, __Sagittarius__. This is ... __Siren__. Over."_

"You're not coming in clearly, Dancing Siren," Ambient struggled to realign frequencies. She shook her head two and three times before a high-frequency squeal forced Ambient out of her chair. She pressed the palms of her hands against her head and bowed over in pain. Before Magnus jumped to her aid, she recovered and returned to her station. The Autobot femme fluidly rerouted system lines. "Dancing Siren, do you copy? This is the Mozart... slag it," she growled.

"Forget it, Ambient," Magnus turned to Pyrite. "Status?"

"Still scanning, Commander."

Magnus tried not to let impatience get the better of him. They sat there; a target, visible and vulnerable. "Ambient, is there anyone you can reach other than Prime?"

Ambient opened her mouth to report when Gryph's voice broke through communications silence. "_Magnus, I'm glad we're not the only ones glued to the landing pad_."

"Gryph, can you contact the other ships?"

"_Got a hold of __Razor Lady__. Convoy said she tossed a probe to the wind and they're waiting for word. We have some sort of alien complex in our line of sight_."

Relief touched Ultra Magnus but he gave no external indication. "Have you picked up any life signs?"

"_Not yet_," Gryph replied evenly. _"I'm going to send Quickmix and Searchlight on recon. So, stand by, __Mozart__. __Hannibal's Mark__ out._"

Magnus stared at the view screen. "Hate waiting," he muttered.

"Commander?" Pyrite called from his station. "Sir, based on my calculations, we are held in an electromagnetic field. The tractor beam that pulled us in has no signature like I've seen before."

"Can you cancel the field, override or punch holes in it, Pyrite?"

"No sir. The best we can do is find the control center inside the complex and shut it down."

Magnus frowned.

Trevor Tolomsky stood before Rusti. A ball bounced between his hands as his eyes darted from her to Cloudstreaker and back. "C'mon," he nodded toward the shuttle's exit. "I got some cool things to show you."

It did not require genius IQ to see that Cloudstreaker neither saw nor heard the teenage boy. Rusti closed her eyes, attempting to purge all memories pertaining to Jax Tolomsky's son.

Trevor smirked. "Yeah, like that's gonna work. You can't just eliminate illusions."

Rusti forced herself back to her feet, eyes resolute. "Lucky for both of us, I don't think there's any such thing as ghosts; only crappy Quintesson science experiments."

"Ooh, how about that?" Trevor mocked. "You're smarter than they give you credit for. So you think I'm a Quintesson experiment? Maybe, even, a failed one?"

Rusti glimpsed Cloudstreaker out the corner of her eyes. "That depends," she answered cautiously.

"On what?"

"If you can answer my questions."

"Do I look like the Smithsonian tour guide to you?" That earned him an evil eye. Trevor shrugged. "C'mon. I want to show you something cool."

"I'm not leaving the shuttle."

"Sooner or later you'll have to. They'll send drones to dismantle the ship. Standard Operating procedures. So you might as well as come with me."

Rusti crossed her arms. "I'm going to wait until Optimus returns."

Trevor tossed the ball between his hands; back and forth, left to right. He studied Rusti before lifting one side of his face in a smile. "You mean Optimus Prime, right?" She did not answer. "Yeah. You might consider rescuing him."

Rusti didn't trust the image. Listening to him wasn't a good idea, either. "What is 'croix insepency'?"

"You know, Rusti, once the fly gets free of the web, it should not fly back to it. Not that it's your fault-by you, I mean the Autobots. Your friends didn't know."

"Croix insepency, Trevor." Rusti raised her voice and Cloudstreaker turned her gaze toward the girl. But the young woman did not notice.

Trevor's smile turned icy. The ball stopped moving. "_Ten little Autobots walking on the line_

_One fell off and lost his mind..._

_God called the doctor and the doctor chimed,_

'_Just move on and leave it behind._"

Rusti winced. "What?"

"Oh!" Trevor made a slow, single nod. "That's right. All those memories are locked up somewhere in your head, aren't they?" he leaned closer and whispered. "Are you afraid of dark places, shadows? How about falling from a great height?"

Rusti grabbed the ball and threw it out the shuttle. "Go fetch."

Trevor mimicked surprise. "You don't play by the rules, do you, Rusti?" he paused then added, "Ha.

"_Two Autobot Primes dancing from the strings_

_one tore off and broke his wings._

_God called the doctor, but the devil replied,_

_don't worry about them, they've already died._"

Trevor nodded toward the plank. "You'd better find them before someone else does."

Rusti glared but kept her mouth shut. She waited for the image to disappear before joining Cloudstreaker at the front. Cloudy ignored her at first. The femme suddenly took offense to dust particles on the navigation panel. Rusti sat against the nearest bulkhead as Cloudy wiped the panel down.

"I know you heard me," the young lady said quietly. "I know you think I was talking to myself or some invisible friend."

Cloudstreaker moved her lips but no voice came. She stared at the floor then cast her optic visor upon the view screen. "I think I know what happened to us," she said faintly. "The singularity on the Imperium is a seed. It was manufactured to open a wormhole."

Rusti batted her eyes, puzzled. "Is that technology possible? How can anyone create something that controls space-time like that? I mean, I know enough about physics to get myself into trouble, but manufacturing a wormhole is like cutting out a doorway in a wall with a blunt hand saw."

"Yes." Cloudy's gaze drifted in thought. "The Quintessons are a very advanced people. But even space-time cannot be manipulated in such a manner without dire consequences."

Rusti nodded. "I think Ambassador Koontah said something similar."

Cloudstreaker did not answer. Three minutes ticked by before she returned her gaze to Rusti. "We cannot stay here long, if at all."

"Can you... contact the science station itself? I mean, maybe there's someone here, or a computer or something that will get us off this rock."

"No." Cloudstreaker turned from Rusti back to the view screen. "The electromagnetic frequency signatures aren't like anything I've encountered. I mean... whatever they used to generate power here is so... alternate that I can't hold onto the rhythm."

Silence slipped between them until Rusti grew restless and impatient. She paced the shuttle until the worry factor got the better of her. "Cloudstreaker," she called. "How long have they been gone?"

"Three hours, twenty-six minutes, thirty-four seconds."

Rusti's blood ran cold. "And they've not called in?" Cloudstreaker wordlessly shook her head. Rusti checked her exosuit, "I'm going out."

"Very well." Cloudstreaker accepted. She flinched. "Wait, what? No, you can't go-especially by yourself."

"Right," Rusti nodded. "Cuz I'm too little."

"No. Because Optimus and Rodimus will roast me alive." The femme hauled up an ion particle rifle, checked the payload, picked up an external communicator and strapped a sonic knife to her right leg. "Okay, _now_ we can go."

Captain Jemel Helser groaned to life. Voices shrieked and bitched at her from all directions. The nauseating, biting stench of burnt circuitry filled the bridge while her officers lumped along the floor in the throws of unconsciousness. She pushed herself up and hissed when her right ankle popped back into its socket.

She wiped blood off the corner of her mouth and staggered to her chair. "Alright. No more of this roller coaster," she muttered. "Lockout? Sodius?" she coughed twice and punched a comm in her chair. "Perceptor, report." Helser waited and coughed again. "Okay, communications is working. Nobody else is. Nice."

"_Captain Helser, this is Rog Dirar, Lab 24-N. Do you read?"_

Helser coughed again. "This is the bridge, Mr. Dirar, I hear you. Give me a status report..."

"_The lab... all the Autobots are out for the count. I've lost two patients when we lost power. The stasis chambers are in danger of shut down and two of our suspended animation chambers are fluctuating. We're losing oxygen."_

Captain Helser coughed three times. She drew a breath and coughed five times more. Her breath did not come back. "This is the bridge," she pushed air through her voice, "I think we're out of oxygen. I think..." her coughing turned into a fit until she convulsed and dropped to the floor.

From her place at the Mozart's navigation, Ambient turned to Magnus. "Sir, I'm getting erratic readings from the Dancing Siren."

"Engine trouble?"

"No, sir, life support systems failure."

Magnus almost jumped from his chair. "Call Gryph and tell her to put together a rescue unit and meet me at the Dancing Siren. I want this ship on alert, medical ready to receive evacuees. Now!"

Pyrite stood, his expression urgent. "Sir! We don't have near the facilities for the number of patients kept on the Siren. We don't have any of the equipment most of them need-"

Magnus glared. "Then you'd better come up with an answer, Mister." Pyrite directed his gaze out the main viewer toward the science station. "No!" Magnus instantly objected.

"The science station might be a Quintesson installation, sir," the Autobot officer answered, "but it would have room and facilities necessary for the extreme cases on the Siren_."_

Magnus pointed at him, "you'd better get me more information before I make that decision, Mister. And I'd better have it before we have to move anyone."

"Sir-"

"Put together a small task force and recon, Pyrite, don't waste time!" Magnus left the bridge before the irritating and inexperienced science officer mewed another argument.

Magnus chose three Autobots to accompany him to the outside unknown. They manually opened the starboard hatch and ventured out. The group paused before pressing forward, their optics swept the surroundings with awe and trepidation. At the ship's stern sat an immense building constructed of polished black walls and a large plaque written in a strange dialect. A huge runway stretched off the Mozart's starboard. Its length yawned far past the ship's bow and much further beyond Magnus' optical range. Another impressive building rose off the Mozart's port. Gigantic plates of transparent aluminum shielded the largest hydroponics complex ever seen. The Sagittarian Mozart could easily fit inside the building several times over. Alien plant life of every conceivable species thrived within the building.

"Where the Pitt are we?" Traverse whispered.

Magnus checked his weapons and comline for the fifth time. "Everyone stay tight," he ordered sternly. "The first person to break ranks will end up in medbay. Roadshow, you have the rear. Traverse, I want full scanner recon. Groove, you have cartography, life form scans and geology. Let's move!"

Shifting to auto form, the group advanced in a diamond formation and kept all scanners on alert. They treaded tough asteroid terrain until a solid, four-foot wall blocked them from the runway. They transformed and stepped over the boundary. Magnus hated the dead stillness. Not sound nor wind, not golden sunlight nor star illuminated the rock on which they landed. Harsh magnesium light shed from the tallest building. The group passed the Confiscator under a high-contrast glare. Traverse reported signs of activity inside the Confiscator and relayed coordinates to communications officer, Tieback.

Magnus ordered them onward with the assurance that Silverbolt had everything under control. They encountered the Crested Moon but did not stop to check on her crew, either. The Armored Crest, the Spiral Star and the Sunset Kummya all showed signs of life and internal activity.

As Magnus led his team west of the runway, Brainstorm, captain of the Spiral Star, contacted him directly. "_We have sixteen malfunctioning refrigeration units, Magnus," he reported. Eighty percent of our systems are down_."

"How long before meltdown, Brainstorm?" Magnus transformed and stepped over another boarding wall. Approximately two football fields from him sat the Dancing Siren. She smoldered with an internal fire.

"_My estimation ranges between twenty minutes and forty-five_." Brainstorm paused and clicked on a pad, his fingers tapping hard over the comline. "_We're working to shut down all unnecessary equipment and functions, Ultra Magnus. But it's not enough. It'll give us ten minutes at the tops._"

"Pyrite is pulling together a recon team. I suggest contacting him. Magnus out." Upon reaching the Dancing Siren, Ultra Magnus and his team assessed the vessel's outer shell. The rough entry melted the main hatch, forcing them to carve it open.

Groove lit up with a better idea: why cut, when they could enjoy a good explosion? He pasted the seams with his own homemade brand of putty and a demented grin. The explosion illuminated the area bright as a floodlight. The Protectobot all but hopped over Magnus as the hatch door lowered on squeaky hinges.

Billows of smoke huffed out the ship and stretched like fog in the asteroid's thin, freezing atmosphere. Autobots poured forth, coughing and rubbing their heads. Magnus aided the more blinded humans while Traverse, Roadshow and Groove charged in to rescue the wounded and lost.

Twenty minutes later, those who moved under their own power aided someone who could not until the crew majority disembarked. Magnus' team dismounted the acutely infirm and double-checked every deck and room. The commander himself headed for the bridge.

Rusti and Cloudstreaker tip-toed across the hanger. The ladies covered an expanse equal to three football fields. Cloudstreaker offhandedly suggested flying. But the young lady with her shot the femme a dirty look.

At first they followed Cloudy's tricorder, programmed to pick up life signs. But an hour later, the femme realized her scanner led them deeper into the complex rather than outside. On a haunch, Rusti bee- lined along a route based on a trail Cloudstreaker found. "It consists of salt, urea, ammonia, fish by-products, dead blood cells, lithium oxide-"

"Pee," Rusti answered her own question.

"Essentially, yes." Cloudstreaker fine-tuned her tricorder. Rusti walked along the far right-side wall. "Why do you choose to walk along there?" the femme asked innocently. "Aren't you afraid something will reach through the wall and take you?"

"Yes," the young lady answered. "But I'm not walking in pee... especially since I think it's Quintesson pee."

Cloudstreaker paused in stride long enough to add the situation together. She too switched to the far-right wall.

An hour and a half later, the ladies encountered an elevator. Rusti shivered with relief. She sat in the far left corner and rested as the car carried them several levels up. Everything around her came super-sized. The length, the breadth and the dark imposed on her; a tiny, tiny speck of dust lost in the great cosmos.

The elevator slowed to a stop and the doors soundlessly opened. Rusti peered at the alien environment through her exosuit's scanners. A hall lined with doors stretched far beyond scanning range. Cloudstreaker stepped around Rusti and led her into the endless corridor. Two doors on either side waited for entry. Cloudstreaker took readings. Her footfalls toed so lightly, Rusti almost did not hear the grind of her foretoe against the metal flooring.

"I think these were quarters," the femme assessed. "I don't see how-" her hand-held tricorder beeped and five little diodes flashed one after another. With a glance at Rusti, she followed her tricorder's readings. Rusti hesitated to tag. She realized that if something were to happen to her and Cloudstreaker, there'd be no rescue. No one knew they were down in the gullet of a Quintesson science station. Rusti could not sense either Optimus or Rodimus. She was psychicly blind.

Rusti slowly withdrew into herself, uncertain and leery. She froze in one place while Cloudy traveled further and further away. Rusti searched her soul for some semblance of a backbone. Whatever she found, tucked away in a corner, came forward, undaunted and determined to find and gather _her_ Autobots. Rusti blinked.

_Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn._ _Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn._

_She_ knew how to navigate, _she_ knew what to do. With a breath of confidence, Rusti relented control to the entity who sought refuge within her. She still witnessed the world around her. She still felt her clothing and smelled the stale air through the exosuit's filter. But she saw the world through a set of alien eyes.

Cloudy counted ten minutes since she last heard the young woman's footsteps patter after her. She turned to see if her companion yet followed her direction. The girl, now several paces away, did not move. Cloudy could not determine if Rusti's reluctance was due to fear or that the woman changed her mind about their course. Just when the Autobot femme chose to say something, Rusti moved. She walked with a fluid motion as though walking on air. Cloudstreaker tilted her head, confused, but said nothing of it.

_She_ caught up with the femme and moved ahead to lead the way. They turned right and down a case of broad stairs before Cloudstreaker paused, breaking her stride.

"Rusti," Cloudy said softly. "Do you know where we're going?"

"We will be rejoining with Ultra Magnus, Cloudstreaker." Her voice did not lilt as it should. Rusti's voice sounded strong, confident, slightly deeper than normal.

The femme hesitated as doubt touched her logic center. With a light shrug, she tagged her human companion down the broad, curvy stairs. They entered a place even darker (if it were possible) than the living quarters. Cloudstreaker kept track of Rusti. They traveled ten minutes before her tricorder blipped, died and came back to life. Cloudstreaker paused. "Wait a minute. Something just happened." She checked the scanner then set it on self-diagnosis.

"It's alright," the young lady assured. "You're alright, Cloudstreaker. We need to keep moving." she pressed forward, heedless of (or ignoring) the femme's growing suspicions. Cloudstreaker lost focus on Rusti as she tried to get her device to reset. Her feet hit the bottom of the stairs and sloshed in wetness. She staggered in surprise. A layer of liquid puddled around her feet. But Cloudy's scanner showed nothing but metal. And no Rusti. She stood breathlessly still, searching for life signs, anything to indicate she was not alone.

"Rusti?" she called. "Rusti? Where are you, Hon? Rusti?" Cloudstreaker strengthened her voice: "Rusti!" She turned round, seeking the stairs.

But they were no longer there.

"Rusti?" Cloudy's voice came small with a tremble. Lost in darkness and liquid, the femme tried not to panic. She stared into her scanner, now bouncing crazy things in plain Autobot and hexadecimal. "Come on," she urged. "Give me a correct reading. I don't want to be here by myself!"

Scant seconds churned into fearful minutes. Cloudstreaker wanted to move forward but feared she'd lose her way if she moved so much as half a foot. Stay calm. Stay calm. The scanner hasn't finished self-diagnosis yet. Stay calm.

"Cloudy?"

She screamed. The young lady's voice boomed in the dead silence.

"I'm so sorry!" Rusti said, "I thought you were behind me." A door opened where she stood and a dim blue light filtered from another room.

"Yes..." Cloudy stammered. "I-uh, no. I-" she glanced back again but the stairs still weren't there. She rushed ahead and followed Rusti through the huge seamless door. It shut silently and Cloudy leaned against it in relief.

"I am very sorry, Cloudstreaker," Rusti said quietly. "That will not happen again." she trailed right and forward, not waiting for the femme to catch a moment's worth of orientation. Quickly tapping after the girl's unusual pace, Cloudstreaker rechecked her scanner. Now it worked perfectly. She paused in her gait long enough to ascertain whether or not she read it correctly.

All in order, as it should be. Cloudy tapped again to catch up. She regarded her surroundings like a child lost in a huge store. The walls towered overhead, tall as Omega Supreme. The piers on either side dropped down with a gentle sweep on the floor. For a Quintesson science station, there appeared to be very little Quintesson architectural involved. Cloudy theorized the possibility that the science station was either purchased from some other species or completely confiscated by the Qintessons and the original owners paid for the invasion with their lives.

Rusti led her out the darkness into a large room populated by metal tables, chairs and benches. Shallow pits caved into the floor. Again, Cloustreaker dared believe those same pits were designed with the Quintessons in mind. The ladies paused at the archway and Rusti searched the ceiling.

"Light, please," she said in Autobot.

Rusti's ability to speak in Autobot came enough a shock to Cloudstreaker, but when the lights obeyed her, the femme flinched. "H-how did you... I mean... Humans can't speak-"

"I am Pyrt, Cloudstreaker. I am _Pyrazhak That Chamronsyn_. I am one chosen as the heart and guardian of your species." The entity residing in Rusti met Cloudstreaker's optics with a set of vivid blue eyes. "Do not fear me, my friend. Stay with me. Ultra Magnus is not far now."

The young woman travel ahead, undaunted and unafraid. The femme followed in spite of her personal uncertainty. She gathered more visual information on the room they currently occupied. Rows upon rows of tables filled the room one end to another. Cloudy's Quintesson theory grew more valid when she noticed drains lined the bottom in each pit.

A giant screen hung from the far right-side wall. To the left ran a long silver counter with heating lamps hovering above it. Long openings into an adjacent room revealed a huge kitchen. _Cafeteria_ was the only thing that came to Cloudy's mind. She dared believe that the same cafeteria appealed to several species, not just Quintesson acquirers.

Rusti left the room and Cloudstreaker dashed to keep her in visual range. Lights came to life several yards ahead as they passed one metal door after another. Corridors branched off left and right every fifth door until the ladies approached another grand archway.

Rusti lifted her eyes to the lofty ceiling. "Light, please." From the ceiling giant glass orbs burst to life. An unknown liquid illuminated everything in a perfect, soft, shadowless light. Cloudstreaker marveled in the over-all feel of immensity. Balconies pocketed the hall on three sides. On their level, the room contained an array of computers, consoles, counters and chairs of all sizes and types-and again, pits and drains in the flooring.

A window taller than Ultra Magnus revealed the world outside; a place of rock, building and wind. Monitors of all sizes lined the wall on either side of the giant window. More familiar with computers, Cloudstreaker guessed this was the main communications station. She approached the console and took a cautious reading before claiming a chair just right of the great window.

Rusti said nothing. Her heart filled with relief when she recognized the Autobot ships sitting along the tarmac just outside the building. One ship, the Mozart, took up space in front of a glass building, presumably they hydroponics. The Razor Lady sat directly in front. The Hannibal's Mark sat some hundred yards away and the Vertical Horizon sat further than that.

"Got it!" Cloudstreaker declared triumphantly. She flipped on several switches and all the screens and boards lit to life.

"Cloudstreaker," Rusti said more in her own voice, "You need to activate the doors and rooms to medical."

Cloudstreaker looked at the girl in astonishment. "Young lady," she said rather than 'little girl', "I just now figured out communications. I am not-"

"Then help me up," Rusti answered calmly. "Let me help."

Cloudstreaker wasn't about to argue. She lifted the young human to the consol and concentrated on frequency dial-in.

Rather than waiting for assistance, Rusti searched one computer console after another, hoping to hear some voice in her head indicate which button to press or command to type.

"Hey!" Trevor' form appeared two consoles away. Rusti gave him an evil eye. "I see you found central command."

The young lady glanced over her shoulder toward Cloudstreaker and kept her voice as low as possible. "You shouldn't be here when other people are here. They'll think I've lost my head!"

Trevor rolled his eyes. "If you can't say it out loud, then for crying out loud, Rusti, _think it."_

She glared. "_Looking for access to Science and Medical."_

Trevor nodded at a series of switches. "That one," he pointed to a toggle with a strange squiggle under it.

Rusti pushed it like a lever and a broad panel opened, revealing a keypad with a total of nine burnished silver buttons. She huffed. "The universe does not come with an English translation."

"They're just numbers, Rusti. Like a telephone."

"_What's the combination?"_

Trevor smiled, pleased.

Pyrite huffed when Kup pulled rank on him and took over the recon mission. Springer and Pointblank led the party along the landing strip, passing the Confiscator and the Vertical Horizon. The Hannibal's Mark lowered her main ramp. Ion and Searchlight scanned the area and reported their geologic survey to the Mozart, the Covenant and the Gabriel Genesis. Kup, Crosshairs and Pyrite hugged the outer edges of their team while Springer and Pointblank worked on accessing the science and medical building.

Twenty minutes and still nothing. Kup's patience ran dry and he contacted the Interrogator. "D' ya think you can spare Wavelength long enough t' come out here and give this bootleg-busting, aft-kicking piece of crap open?"

Before Spectrum answered, the huge bay door boomed and slid apart. A gigantic, thick-plated blast shield slid down and welcomed the Autobots into darkness. Springer drew his sword and stepped in first. Pointblank and Kup followed, their Targetmaster companions walked alongside them, wary and silent. Crosshairs remained at the entrance. Pyrite followed Pointblank and at his fourth step, the lights shot on. Machines whirred to life. Scanners beeped. Computers and monitors activated and stood at the ready.

Springer shivered. "What the bright side of the Pitt is going on here?"

"Stay sharp, everybody," Kup ordered. "Crosshairs, notify the ship captains-especially Ultra Magnus. Let them know we're taking a twenty-minute sweep."

A flash caught Springer's attention as Crosshairs answered Kup and called each ship out loud. The Triplechanger swung to the left. But the only thing that greeted him was a giant scanning machine; presumably a CAT scan or MRI. A monitor above it flickered with static, waiting for use.

Pointblank's voice sounded over their internal comlines: "We got patient beds! Lots of them!" Kup asked for specifics as Springer continued his sweep. He found an archway leading into another room filled with microscopes and other scanners of all types, shapes and sizes. A large data crystal sat in the slot of one computer panel. It flickered white, blue then yellow in repeated succession. Springer debated whether or not to touch it. The whole place set his nerves on edge. The place was so huge and so empty. Was this place abandoned? And if so, when and why?

"Springer!" Kup's gravely voice snarled through the comline, "what's your report?"

"Uh, all clear, Kup. Just scanning equipment here. No bodies 'cept me."

"You get that, Magnus?" Kup asked along the ship-wide comline frequency. The answer did not come to Springer but Kup came back: "Alright, boys, shift into gear. Magnus is coming in hot with people from the Dancing Siren!"

From the command center's communications room, Cloudstreaker and Rusti watched as Magnus and Kup orchestrated rescue from the Dancing Siren to the station's science and medical. Cloudstreaker downloaded data she gathered about the station itself. She stared at her companionable tricorder with a haunted expression.

"We haven't found Optimus, Rodimus or Galvatron," she said quietly.

Rusti continued to stare out the window. "That's my job," she answered simply.

The femme stepped out her chair and rechecked her weapon. "I know the way from here to medical," she announced. "Are you coming?" Rusti's smile was all the answer she needed.

Leaving the command center's communications, the ladies ventured along three corridors before encountering a walkway stretching from their building to science and medical. The walkway, constructed of glass and metal, gave them a better view of the Razor Lady to their right. Before them rose the enormous science and medical building and to their left, a dim rocky landscape dipped into a canyon. Rusti did not want to consider what might lay at the bottom. If this place was a Quintesson complex, chances were high they'd find bones and debris down there.

Cloudstreaker and Rusti entered science and medical via a large carpeted lobby complete with potted alien plants, lush carpet, gigantic, fifteen foot paintings and a beverage bar.

A bright light flickered in front of Cloudstreaker. She gasped, flinched and stepped back as the static image of a Quintesson appeared, refined itself and shifted from its Face of Death to the Face of Deceit.

"_Greetings, visitors. We welcome you to our new, fully-equipped space lab. For your convenience, we have installed a series of visitor's quarters. We have also added many creature-comforts we hope will be to your liking as you tour our facility. We are confident that you will find something here you'd either like to invest in or purchase right from the hands of our friendly and courteous staff._ _If you have further questions, do not hesitate to ask. We look forward to serving you."_

A second holographic figure phased from the left; a three-faced Quintesson indicated a doorway behind. "_Here you may step into our highly advanced science and medical facility. Complete with five levels our medical and science is Divinity at work. Practically nothing is impossible. Everything from medical miracles to psychic slaves tailored to your specific needs can be met here on Bare Anches..._" the hologram fizzed, snapped out then back in. It disappeared again and the figure, now mutilated, shrieked in agony before a hulking shadow stepped in front and hacked its head in two.

"OHMIGOD!" Rusti flinched and covered her mouth in horror. "What the hell was that thing?"

Cloudstreaker calmly scanned the room then shook her head. "Nothing. It's only a recording."

The young woman stared at her with wide, fearful eyes. She hesitated before deciding moving forward was a good choice.

Like traveling along a dark road toward the unknown, Cloudstreaker and Rusti waded through the unlit corridor. Their only light emanated from Cloudy's visor and her tricorder. The femme spared a glance on her scanner every third step to make double certain her human companion had not disappeared.

A set of heavy blast doors clanged apart, sliding in half; part into the floor, the other into the ceiling above. Rusti winced at the intense light showering science and medical from light strips in the walls and spherical globules dangling from the ceiling. A calamity of bodies, voices and urgent shouts met them. First Aid came into view as he and a team of Autobots dragged Snarl's prone form into a room just down the path. Rusti hugged the doorway entrance while Cloudy pressed through the growing crowd, apologizing and excusing herself between people and equipment. Stretchers waited along the hallway from Rusti's right. Upon them lay the deceased; Autobots and organics alike.

"_Don't let them get too cozy here,_" Trevor said from nowhere. "_The station doesn't like the dead."_

Rusti turned round, intending to leave the chaos to those better suited to handling things. She needed to find Optimus and Rodimus.

"_What a good idea!_" Trevor praised. "_But you know, you shouldn't go anywhere around here by yourself._"

"Will you stop telling me what to do?"

He shrugged with a lip protrusion. "I like you. That's why I have to harass you."

She almost didn't catch it. One third of those inside science and medical saw it too. Everyone else merely acknowledged a light fluctuation. Rusti's heart stopped and she panted for air. "What was that?" she really wasn't asking Trevor.

"Yes," he replied evenly. "It happens often. The ghosts. They're vindictive."

Rusti shuddered. "There's no such thing as ghosts," she snarled, "only Quintesson science experiments. Now are you going to help me find Optimus and Roddi or do I get to do this by myself?"

Trevor sucked his lower teeth. "You'd never be found if you went by yourself. I guess I'll come with you."

Her eyes fixed on him. His nonchalant attitude aroused her suspicions. Rusti pushed her lips upward in an uncharacteristic tell-tale. "You're right," she agreed. "It'd be stupid to fly off minus a companion. And before you object, I want you to get that you're either a figment or a ghost. Either way, if I got into trouble, you'd likely either laugh at me, stand there and repeat 'I told you so' or ask me how I can get myself into such predicaments." Rusti walked off and left Trevor bewildered.

"Wait!" he called out. "Where are you going?"

She spun about, walking backward. "To get a _dog_... a really _big_ dog." Rusti ignored her new-found invisible friend as she braided and wound her way through the traffic of Autobots, rushing humans and panicking aliens. Science and medical welcomed her with sights and sounds of the wounded, infirm and critically injured. She heard someone mention Grimlock's destabilizing condition and received orders to take him elsewhere in the building.

Some poor mother wailed in grief when her child flatlined. Someone else screamed in madness and Rusti paused, listening closely.

"_Get him strapped down! Sunstreaker! You've GOT to CALM DOWN! Sunstreaker!"_

Rusti choked up. Was this all they were destined for: months and months of nothing but death and insanity? She wanted to cover her ears, but her helmet interfered. Besides, the exosuit's scanners compensated for such notions.

Rusti drew a deep breath and set her determination forward. Someone she dearly loved was not with her. Slipping around the throng of people large and small, the young lady found her way to the building entrance and encountered Ambient.

"Excuse me," she called. The femme politely knelt on one knee and offered a smile. Rusti waited until Doublecross thundered past them. "I'm sorry...I was wondering if Steeljaw was available. I need to find Optimus and Galvatron."

It took a moment for Ambient to process the request. She set a hand against her left audio. "I got that, Sir," she said over the internal comline. "Yes, she's right here, as a matter of fact." the communications officer produced a small datapad and tapped into it. "Aye, sir." She met Rusti's tired expression. "You need to report to the Mozart, hon."

"I need to find Optimus and Roddi. And I would like Steeljaw to come with me."

Ambient rolled her head side to side with weariness. "Rusti-"

"I am not twelve years old, Ambient. I can more or less take care of myself. And as long as I can take Steeljaw with me, it'll get you off the hook."

The femme held her hands out offensively. "Fine. All right." she bowed over the small pad and her thumbs raced over it."

"Oh," Rusti added in a more sheepish tone, "um, I don't suppose there might be a protein bar and water or something like them lying around is there?"

A multitude of medical emergencies traffic-jammed any semblance of organization as the Autobots poured into the science and medical building. No one took the time to wonder how the building's expansive doors and lighting activated.

First Aid rushed alongside the first five medical aids. They raced Grimlock from the Dancing Siren into a working stasis chamber. Copper flew in glider-mode and circled the three-acre room until he found exactly what the robo-doctor ordered. They tanked Grimlock promptly and waited for life scanners to start up.

"Primus fragging damnit!" Apogee swore, "Our equipment isn't compatible!"

"MANUAL OPERATION!" First Aid uncharacteristically shouted.

"FIRST AID!" Timber called over the comline, "Sunstreaker! He's flatlined and we have a gaspurn leak!"

"Start him on a transfusion!" First Aid shouted back. Perceptor almost ran into him. The Autobot scientist set a heavy crate next to the stasis unit and he and Apogee did what they could to set up manual control. First Aid raced two stalls down as Timber and Perigee laid Sunstreaker's 'tinker toy' form on the flat. They inserted fluid lines the moment an aid brought them in. First Aid scanned Sunstreaker. "How many minutes, now?"

"Seven," Perigee replied.

"First Aid!" Jacket called, "where did you want them to put Snarl?"

"First Aid! We have seven more incoming! Where do you want them?"

The medic pointed to the stall across the way for Snarl and another stall several yards left of Sunstreaker. Six other people contacted him via internal comlines-including Magnus. Sunstreaker's vitals stayed flat.

And he heard Captain Jamel Helser of the Dancing Siren was found dead.

And then the stasis chamber they found for Snarl shattered and flooded the floor with freezing, vital fluids and Perigee attempted to bring Sunstreaker to life one more time...

Magnus fared no better.

"Sir, what should we do with Miss Helser?"

"That's_ Captain Helser_, Sodius-"

"Aye, Sir, but what do we do with her?"

Quasar called over the comline: "Ultra Magnus! The Sprial Star is leaking liquid oxygen under Level Four..."

Magnus tried to get Strike Back's attention for the second time: "I want you to report, NOW, Mister!"

"I'm BUSY, MAGNUS!"

Quasar wasn't finished: "...we have broken subdermal shock absorbers along the starboard and aft..."

Kup offered a better report: "According to Freefall, the Dancing Siren can be repaired in four hours. But the stasis units and refrigeration are offline..."

Quasar came back two seconds later: "...we have structural damage to the bridge and damaged life support systems..."

Blaster added the ten-weight on top of it all: "all the fleet's internal temp control systems 'r frozen 'nd outta sync with ships' computers. It'll take sixteen hours to realign them."

Ambient called: "Ultra Magnus, we have a problem: Rusti has taken off. But St-"

An inconsolable shriek shot the air and cut through all immediate conversation. Magnus dropped all comlines and ran into the building.

First Aid stared at Sunstreaker's readouts while Doublecross struggled to hold Sideswipe back long enough to give him room. But the medic did nothing. "Shut the machines off," First Aid ordered miserably. "Shut them all off. He's gone."

"Nnooo!" Sideswipe cried. "You afthole, First Aid!" He squirmed in Crossy's strong arms. "You bring him back! You bring back my brother! You hear me?"

First Aid nodded at Doublecross and she released Sideswipe as Perigee removed equipment from Sideswipe's twin brother. The medic morosely penned a signature to a nearby datatablet while someone else shouted they needed help with Snarl.

"BRING HIM BACK!" Sideswipe repeated. "God dammit! You put those things back on him! You bring him back!" His shouting dissolved into a sob. "WHAT THE PITT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!? HE'S NOT DEAD! HE'S NOT DEAD!" Sideswipe punched Sunny's chest as he wept. "Not dead!"

As if reality heard Sideswipe's plaintive weeping, Sunny's body shot straight up, optics dark with bleeding fluids. His face lifted toward the ceiling. No word of correct spelling adequately described the wail uttered from Sunstreaker's vocalizer. Most people-Humans, aliens and Autobots all-covered their ears. The song of the tormented ripped across the huge room like a sonic cloak. It frayed nerves and brought the weak of spirit to tears.

The room and its occupants did not breathe. Time moved inch by inch as Magnus raced for the stall. He knew that sound. He knew its implications. He pushed everyone aside while his laser core vibrated hard with panic.

Sideswipe did not know better. A miracle came to him. He fanned his arms wide and enveloped his resuscitated brother. He held Sunny close for three seconds; pure relief. Pure joy.

A knife sank into Sideswipe's left shoulder and tore into his armor. His plating ripped to the elbow. Sunny shoved him against the wall and leapt off the table like a feral cat.

Magnus hurdled over a group of Humans and landed hard before dodging Sunstreaker's bladed digits. Without a second thought, the Major-general produced his weapon and set it for stun.

Sideswipe cried out and scrambled to his feet. "No! No! Don't shoot! He's alive! Sunny!"

"Sideswipe! That's not-" Magnus did not get to finish his sentence. The thing that Sunstreaker became targeted Sideswipe the moment the twin made a noise. Sideswipe ran toward his brother. A jolting kick to the torso sent Sideswipe flying. He crashed into a dividing wall and moaned. Determination gave him the strength to get back up while Sunny's makeshift form ambled toward him. Its movements jerked and pushed the patch-up robotic body in ways not intended for use. The faceplate, dented and wet with dark fluids, split apart by unnatural means.

First Aid produced a dart gun he used only on the Dinobots. Magnus' finger hesitated on the trigger of his rifle. He glanced at the medic then at the twins as Sunny closed in on Sideswipe.

"First Aid?" Magnus didn't know what else to ask.

He didn't need to. The medic aimed. "If this doesn't work, Magnus, you'll have to shoot."

Sunny slammed his whole body against his brother and pinned him against the closest wall; too close to shoot. "Aren't you afraid yet, _Little Brother?"_ he asked with a double voice. "I hear your anger, I smell desire for things outside Darkness. The Void will find your mind and drill holes in your spark!"

Sideswipe shouted half in anger, half in grief. "GET OUT OF MY BROTHER, YOU FRAGGING CLOT!" with all his might, Sideswipe shoved the possessed Autobot off and swung a fist. But Sunstreaker caught it with one hand and landed the other round Sideswipe's neck. He tripped Swipes to the floor, released his brother's fist and pinned Sideswipe with unusual strength. Sunny raised his free hand and paused long enough for the 'tinker-toy' digits to reshape themselves into long deadly blades.

Sideswipe struggled to remove Sunny's hand from round his neck. At the last second, he shoved a knee into Sunstreaker's middle and cast him into the air. First Aid made his shot and missed by the sound of a whisper. The tranquilizer hit Umber instead and knocked him cold.

Sunstreaker used the half-second distraction to plant a foot against Sideswipe's chin and sent the warrior crashing along the floor. Sunny followed, landed hard on his brother and with another shriek, tore at Sideswipe's body. Sideswipe shoved to the side and the two locked in a deadly wrestling match. Fluids spilt all over the floor and a few seconds later, bits and pieces of Sideswipe's armor flaked off.

Magnus took a chance and kicked up the stun setting by two notches. He fired a wide range with a silent apology to all those Autobots and Humans who stood within that range. Sunstreaker jerked as though shot with electricity. He hissed then collapsed.

Blaster interrupted the moment when he contacted Magnus via internal comline: "_Heya, Mags! Strike Back is yelling to talk at ya, Man."_

"Is this an emergency, Blaster?"

"_Uh, he didn't say, Boss."_

"Not now, Blaster." Magnus grunted

"_Not kiddin', Dude,"_ the communications officer insisted. "_He just about ripped me a new one."_

Turning from the scene, Magnus retreated to the outside world. "Blaster, what part of 'not now' don't you get?" Before Blaster offered a flimsy reply, Magnus spotted the Sabor's Claw's punk captain stomping toward him. Magnus set his mood from frustrated to irritable. He welcomed no confrontation with Strike Back. But a confrontation with a grouchy, juvenile Strike Back only made the Major-general itch to punch someone. And with both Primes missing, chances were high that he and Fort Zenith's former city commander were going to butt heads.

"Magnus!" Strike Back snarled. "I've been trying to contact you for twenty minutes!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Strike Back," the Major-general sneered with sarcasm. "I didn't have anything better to do than to ignore you."

Strike Back ignored his attitude: "I need a life support tech. Lyric is not answering her hail and that means I need another communications officer. I need that _girl_ to come and diagnose my ship so I can find out why the Claw's backup dampeners are offline. And where the Pitt are Op-"

"You know what? Shut up!" Magnus' optics flared. "You are not the only person up to his aft with problems. Take a number and get in line. More than that, I want you to assign six people for reconnaissance."

"What?! No."

Magnus fell deadly quiet. "What did you just say?"

Strike Back punched a finger against Magnus' chest plate. "I said NO! Just because you're bigger, badder and uglier than the rest of us gives you no greater privileges for bossing everyone else around than me! I'm a city commander, too... _Commander_. But unlike Brainstorm, Silverbolt, Kup or Gryph, I'm not afraid to stand up to you and your bullying temper! You're not in charge, Magnus unless someone else says you're in charge and _I_ did not say you were in charge!"

Ambient approached and both mechs dropped their argument. "Sir," she said to Magnus. "I tried to tell you earlier that Rusti Witwicky has taken off on her own to find Rodimus and Optimus Prime and that Steeljaw went with her."

Magnus reigned in his anger long enough to answer her with a leveled voice. "Thank you, Ambient. And if you please, I need reports from the Covenant."

"Aye, sir."

They waited until she left before Magnus fixed a burning glare at Strike Back. "This isn't finished." he growled. With that, he stomped off, paused five steps away and half-turned. "Oh, and Strike Back, find your own fucking tech support!"

27


	3. CHASSE

CHASSE

The Gabriel Genesis squatted on the asteroid landing pad two miles off the science and medical facility. Steeljaw attentively paced before the ship, hour after hour. Officers, crew, young, old, Autobot and organic came and departed on business of one type or another. Half a day later, the Autobot cassette lion heard Rusti's gait pattern. He reared like a puppy, excited to see a loved and familiar face.

Rusti kept as close to the roadways as possible and avoided any Autobots who might order her back to 'safety'. Determined to find their missing leaders-and her charge, Rusti was not in the mindset for an argument.

Steeljaw lowered half his body so that his hindquarters stuck straight in the air and his tail wagged in greeting. Rusti grinned and petted the robotic lion.

"We're going on a hunting trip," she announced. The golden creature sat before her with enthused expectation. "We're going to find Optimus and Roddi. Well... _I_ will. I just thought I'd ask if you'd come with me. You don't _have to_. But... I'd feel safer if you did."

Rather than answering, the lion focused his optics on an approaching figure. Rusti's scanners picked _her_ up, too. With gutsy attitude in place, she faced the Paratronian femme, Delta. Rusti vaguely recalled seeing Delta on occasion. As one of Magnus' top officers, the femme attended meetings with Optimus when Magnus could not be present. And although Rusti never actually watched Delta transform, the femme clearly displayed the characteristics of an automobile. Just like Cloudstreaker, Delta's optic sensors came in the form of a single visor. Unlike Cloudstreaker's soft and shapely face, Delta's angular lips and jawline entitled her a grim motif.

Delta smiled patronizingly. "Hello, Dear," she greeted cordially. "A little dangerous to be out this far by yourself."

"You're out here by yourself," Rusti weakly returned.

"No doubt," Delta purred. "But compared to you, I'm the size of a house."

Rusti slowly and deeply nodded then shrugged. "Yeah. Well, size doesn't equal wit." She watched the conflict rage on Delta's lips. The femme didn't take the remark too well.

But then the femme forced a light laugh. "Aren't you adorable? How about you and the kitty accompany me back to the Sabor's Claw where it's considerably safer?"

Rusti stared her down and took a slight step closer to Steeljaw. "Is that an order?" she asked carefully.

Delta broke into a smile so fake it turned Rusti's stomach. "Of course not! Just a suggestion among friends. I mean nothing by it, Darling."

Rusti nodded again. "Okay. Well, thank you for the offer. Steeljaw and I will head..." Rusti nodded toward science and medical "... that way. Get back with you later? Maybe?"

Delta's expression turned a little more sincere, if but forgiving and permissive. "Sure."

Rusti led the cassette lion around Delta. She tried not to look too obvious and evaded further eye contact. Rusti maintained caution and spoke to Steeljaw on a private comline. "_High school rule Number Five, Steeljaw: Beware of people who eagerly want to do you a favor and go out of their way to do so."_

The lion paused for a glance behind them even as Rusti continued walking. She did not ask what he sought; Steeljaw always watched her back. Kitty caught up and gently nudged her arm; _all clear._

They passed the Dancing Siren as crews labored to repair the ship's life support systems. Returning to the runway, they pushed beyond the Sunset Kummya, the Spiral Star. They also rounded the Armored Crest and the Covenant. Rusti and Steeljaw passed several groups of Autobots and EDC officers as they organized themselves into reconnaissance groups of three.

Jazz read from a digipad and called for names: "Seaside, Chalk Talk, Quadrus and Polar. Y'all been assigned t' central command. Halex, Drox an' Lockout, you got th' hydroponics building..."

Rusti and Steeljaw slipped by unnoticed as Neon and Brine exchanged notes on their digipads. Jazz called their names and added Trixy's. He assigned them to the search and secure of provisions.

Steeljaw instinctively knew what was necessary to search for Optimus and Rodimus. Rusti did not always have to spell things out for the robotic lion. Which was why he took charge and led the young woman to the left of the building entrance. They migrated along a narrow corridor dividing the main room from the emergency diagnostics and bypassed emergency surgery where Rusti overheard someone mentioning Snarl's name.

Steeljaw nosed their way past a dark cafeteria and found a dimly-lit vestibule. Three stainless steel elevator doors waited for visitors. Rusti studied them, uncertain. Quintesson writ embossed all plates and signs on Bare Anches. She pursed her lips. "Doesn't seem the Quints bothered with the Autobot language, does it, Steel? I mean, the communications I saw and heard came in..." Rusti narrowed her eyes and tilted her head left. "Wait a minute. I heard what they said, but it was... _English_. How the hell could that be possible? And what's wrong with me? Why didn't I consider that before?" she paused, annoyed with herself. "Losing it. Alright. Well, from what I could tell, this is the top floor. Cloudstreaker and I came through the lobby. And since there's elevators here, that means there's another level. So, theoretically, there's a conjunction from the next level down to the command center, too. So, we'll give it a shot. Hit the second button over from the top... and let's hope the Quintessons don't set their numbers backwards."

The lion complied, punching the button with his nose. The doors silently opened and a soft red light welcomed them inside. Rusti stepped in first and stood close to Steeljaw as the door slid shut. The elevator smoothly descended. Rusti briefly wondered why the base lacked people. If this was a science station, where were the doctors and scientists?

The elevator softly landed and the doors silently opened. Steeljaw stepped out first, nosing his way out the vestibule, tail snaking back and forth. Rusti followed and they stepped into a world of darkness. Her scanners picked up a long corridor leading one direction left, the other direction right.

Steeljaw quietly snarled and chose the path right. Silence clung to them, disquieting and eerie. Rusti imagined she heard the walls listening to their every footstep. In the dark and the quiet, time stretched forever. Occasionally, she laid a hand on Steeljaw, just to be sure.

"Wait..." she paused. The lion copied, frozen breathless. Rusti scanned around them. The walls, the floor, the ceiling remained steadfast; eternal witnesses to a lifeless world. "Okay," she permitted. "I'm just a little freaked. Deep breath. Let's keep going."

Another thirty feet relieved Rusti's anxiety. Four huge windows overlooked the canyon from the lobby. A bridge ran from the science and medical's second floor to central command. Soft lights blinked at them like tiny fairies held captive in square boxes. With another breath, Rusti led Steeljaw onto the enclosed bridge. One third along, her personal comline bleeped.

Magnus' panicking voice raged over the line, "What the hell do you think you're doing? Have you _any_ idea what I've been going through looking for you?"

Rusti steadied herself. "No, Ultra Magnus," she replied calmly. "I'm sorry."

"Return immediately, Rusti! No one is allowed to go anywhere by themselves!"

"I'm not alone, Magnus. I have Steeljaw with me-"

"And he will forthwith be grounded for a _month_!"

_Stay calm_, she told herself. "Have you sent anyone out to look for Optimus and Roddi?"

"Not the point!"

"Have you, or have you not?"

"I am trying to keep everyone together-"

"Which is exactly why I'm doing what I'm doing," Rusti amended. "You have a full plate dealing with nineteen Autobot ships, a million people and a billion problems. _Someone_ needs to find Galvatron, Optimus and Roddi. Since I am neither a scientist, a doctor, a technician, a warrior or a nurse, it makes more sense if I were to do something that's more beneficial than standing around doing laundry."

"Rusti-"

"I can do this, Magnus. Someone needs to look after Optimus and Roddi and it's always been my job."

He hesitated and the young woman imagined how the Major-general's processors smoldered with thought. His voice softened, "I wish you had simply told me."

Rusti batted her eyes and nodded. "I think you and I both know where that would have gone, Ultra Magnus. You're sweet, a good guy and you mean well. But you would not have allowed me to do this on my own."

Magnus sighed heavily with consent. "Be very careful, Rusti. We can't help you."

"You too, Magnus. Don't let your guard down."

Rusti left her end of the comline open just in case Magnus had something more to say. She and Steeljaw traveled the rest of the bridge in silence. She chanced once to lift her eyes and search the sky above them. It loomed dark and starless and just once Rusti caught the glint of a force field. Saying nothing of her observation to her companion, they entered the lobby at the other side of the bridge.

A strobe of light blinked in, snapped and blinked out. Rusti swore she caught half an image in that fractured second. The light flickered again and both woman and lion witnessed a face. But the vision, brief and blurry, zapped out.

"Is that a recording?" Rusti asked out loud.

The light snapped on one more time and a Quintesson's hideous Face of Deceit gazed at Steeljaw as though the lion were an old friend. _"Greeting..." _The holographic projection flickered and again, Rusti thought she saw something other than the Quintesson. "_isitors." _The sound blipped and the image skewed. _"...our new...-equipped space lab._" Static disrupted the recording. A second passed before it cleared. "_For your convenience, we have installed... installed... installed..."_

Rusti shuddered. "Okay, let's um, let's move on."

The image flickered and the Quintesson's voice changed to a deep metallic resonance. _"...we have installed the new virus... pregnancy results in five Forquaran days..."_

The Quintesson's normal voice returned: "..._ a series of visitor's quarters and added many creature-comforts we hope... we hope...you... find something here... from the hands of our... staff._ _If you... hesitate to... look forward ..."_

Rusti turned away. "That's it. I'm freaked." she directed their path out the lobby and into a well-lit corridor. Laser burns, bullet holes, blood and a few body parts left both ends of the corridor in the disarray of a war zone.

The place stank of rotted fish, urine and burnt oil. Rusti set her teeth on edge. How the putrid stench made it through her exosuit's filters, she dared not guess. Perhaps the reek's strength was practically liquified. That thought alone slightly gagged her.

Rusti stepped back into the lobby and bent over, head between her knees. Steeljaw rejoined her and waited. Rusti breathed deeply as the smell faded. "Oh, that was gross. Not a word of this to Rodimus, okay? He doesn't need any ideas."

Steeljaw lowered the front half of his body and stared at her. When she gave him a puzzled look, the lion crept closer, back end up, front hugging the floor.

Rusti didn't know what to make of Steeljaw's behavior at first. Of course, she scratched that up to an empty-headed moment. Then she realized what kitty was doing. "Are you sure you won't mind carrying me, Steeljaw? I don't want you to think I'm a wimp." His expression did not change and Rusti grinned, inwardly laughing at herself. "Too late for that, huh? Alright."

The faithful cassette kitty carried Rusti down the corridor on a swift and confident dash. All along the corridor's length lay dismembered arms or tentacles, splattered organs, a head or two. Not all the body parts were those of Quintesson physiology. Some were of unidentified alien species.

Rusti did not bother to ponder the violent events that ended in chopped body parts. She was, however, all too happy when the corridor ended and the command center opened into a wide room. Computers, monitors and a main viewer screen lit the room with soft screens and stark contrast. But the creep factor lingered at the higher-end.

Steeljaw lowered and allowed Rusti to slip off. She frowned over the issue of her own height and twice stood on her toes just to see over control panel and counter edges. She strained her neck until Steeljaw gently nudged her back and offered to take her up again. She stood on his back then held tight when kitty leapt on a nearby chair. Rusti slipped off again and kept her feet on the edge in case the counters and panels had invisible controls.

She passed two computer monitors built into the wall and frowned at the array of switches and buttons; all written in an alien language. "You know, Steel, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this was more of a peek-a-boo room. I mean, look at the number of screens here. Blaster would love this room."

Rusti stared at one flatscreen monitor currently displaying a poorly-lit room occupied with giant tanks filled with lightly colored fluids. They appeared empty, but Rusti doubted they really were.

She abandoned that monitor for another and passed it when it displayed nothing more than static. The very next monitor with longer dimensions displayed the world just outside the command center. The Razor Lady faced the camera. Rusti watched as Autobots appeared and departed fully ignorant of the spying camera. She spotted Convoy as the Autobot femme angrily spoke to Scuttle, her ship engineer. The drama was interesting, but not on Rusti's to-do list.

The next two monitors displayed nothing. Rusti stared at them, debating whether or not to chance flipping a switch. She gasped with a start when a _tap-tap-tap-taptaptap_ beat behind her. Spinning round, she spotted Steeljaw playing with a plastic cup. He batted the small object in one direction, chased it and pitched it in another direction. His tail wagged with joy. Rusti turned back to her study. Steeljaw kept guard, in spite of his play and she did not need to worry.

"What the hell," she muttered. She stepped on the nearest button and the monitor on the right clicked on. The bright display of a hydroponics lab filled the screen. Alien plants of all sizes, shapes and colors, thrived either in gigantic planters or contained plots. An automated sprinkler system kicked in and doused the plants with life-giving water.

The camera panned right after three minutes, revealing a series of red-gold trees growing in a spiral much like a coiled serpent. After an additional three minutes, the camera panned right again. More coiled trees cluttered a grassy knoll. But dangling from the ceiling, hovering over one blackened tree hung a dead Quintesson. Rusti squeaked with horror. Pus or mucus dribbled out the wound that split Quintesson's face in half. A puddle of yellow-cream goo puddled on the ground. Each new glob hit the ground with a soundless hiss of smoke.

Rusti swung left and forced herself to swallow several times to keep from vomiting. She shuddered, sick and mortified. "Oh, that was nasty. I think I've had enough. This isn't finding Optimus."

A yellow light flashed two feet from her. The young woman debated whether or not to touch it. Part of her wanted to run back to the Crested Moon and stay until they left the asteroid. The adult within admonished her lack of courage. With another deep, clean breath, Rusti summoned her backbone and stepped on the button.

The empty monitor sat dark and silent, staring at her as with a single black eye. Rusti rolled her eyes and was about to turn and called for Steeljaw when movement in the blackness swirled then rippled like water.

"What the..." Rusti gawked with morbid fascination. She didn't know what to make of it. Maybe it was a monitor made of a different kind of material than the others around her. Or maybe it was a freak malfunction.

Void's head launched out the screen, teeth snapping, long black tongue flickering. Rusti screamed and lost her footing. Steeljaw caught her on his back. She gripped him for all she was worth and the lion bounded out the room. The Virus hissed and tugged its spidery shape, long tail and all, out the monitor.

It jumped off the computer console, arched its back and expanded in size. Its tail curved and looped as the thing hesitated. It lifted its long front right leg and cleaned the tip much like a praying mantis. It cleaned its left leg before raising its eyeless face to the ceiling.

A monitor turned itself on and static buzzed, though no speakers made the sound. Void turned its attention to the monitor and approached it with unnatural curiosity.

The oval eyes of a single-headed Quintesson opened amid the static. _"Choth! Choth! Ime pyr croix insepency. Naquamu! Ime pyr croix insepency_! Croix insepency! Croix-"

Void attacked the screen and sank its teeth through the monitor. It tugged and tugged until the single-faced Quintesson slid out as if the monitor gave birth. The Quintesson screamed and flailed, wreathing against the monster. Void released and re-clamped its terrible jaws over the Quintesson's face. The single-headed alien wrapped its tentacles around the beast and squirmed. Void sank its teeth into the squishy creature and ate it much like an alligator, chomping and swallowing the chunks whole. Fluids and blood flooded the floor and splattered all over the Virus.

Void's whole form convulsed as it stretched is mouth further and further apart, swallowing the rest of the Quintesson like a starving serpent. The Quint's tentacles wriggled until Void swallowed them, too. Its mouth closed and its squared tail whacked the floor. Satisfied, the abomination sat and cleaned itself with a forked black tongue.

"Whoa! Stop, stop, stop!" Rusti couldn't catch her breath. She bumped her chin on the back of Steeljaw's cranial shield when the lion screeched to a halt. She slid off his leg and stumbled around for half a moment. Her muddled brain raced with fragmented thoughts until she found her voice: "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!? I **HATE THAT VIRUS!** HOW THE HELL DID IT DO THAT?" Just as fast as her outburst sounded, Rusti stopped and stared at Steeljaw. "Did you see that? You saw that, right? Void? Please tell me I wasn't hallucinating."

The Autobot first nodded then shook his head. Rusti turned away and stripped off her helmet, not even considering there might not be oxygen in the atmosphere. Nor did she stop to think that she breathed just fine. Instead, she faced the lion again with realization expanding in her eyes. "Ohmigod... it's hunting. Ohmigod, that damn thing was _hunting_! That means... it's not with Optimus or Roddi, but in the... complex's computer systems."

Her mind wandered off, thinking of her love, Rodimus and Galvatron until her eyes settled on her helmet. Rusti batted her eyes in disbelief and sucked in air. "This place has oxygen," she whispered. Rusti rolled her eyes, annoyed with her addled brain. "Of _course_ it has oxygen! All the humans in science and medical were breathing..." she shook her head. "Okay. I'm okay." she paused. "No, I'm not okay. I'm totally rattled." She ran her fingers along her scalp and took a moment or two to pull her wits together.

"Not dealing with this very well," she told herself. "This whole situation yanks. All I want is a _normal day_ back home, studying homework and eating a dish of grapes and ice cream. Why does the universe think that's too much to ask? Gawd, I miss my music! I wonder if I'll ever see Dezi again."

As she muttered on, Steeljaw sniffed the dimly lit corridor around them. He wandered several yards from her and discovered the corridor ended in a ledge overlooking another level down. The Autobot lion leaned forward as far as he could and tested the air through his ol factory. His audio receptors tuned into their surroundings, filtering Rusti's private rant from the environment. Steeljaw retreated from the ledge and followed his audios left where the corridor followed an on-ramp to another unmarked destination.

"Told Optimus going to Mars was a bad idea." Rusti breathed deeply as she calmed. "Place smells funky, like rusted-"

"Mwrow?"

Steeljaw's inquisitive call snapped the young woman out of her ranting reverie and invited her to return to more pressing matters. "Two missing Autobot Primes and a stray Decepticon. Right. Lead on, Steel. I'll just keep muttering to myself."

Rusti followed the lion up the ramp and left into a wide open area. The place felt close, as though cluttered with unseen objects. "Does anybody know how to say 'lights' in Quintesson?"

"Mmph." Steeljaw sniffed the air and kept forward. Rusti lingered, almost willing the space station's computer system to read her mind.

She sighed heavily. "Mmormoratuke," she said in Autobot. But the results remained the same. "Xamphromkareeont?" She waited with a slight hope. "No? Pfffp. Whatever."

The lights shot on and Trevor slipped out a giant shelf loaded with memory crystals. "Are you asking for the lights, Rusti?"

She shivered, eyes wide and breath hitched. Rusti did not even notice she stood in a huge, huge library. "Uh-well..."

"All you had to do was ask."

"It's a Quintesson science station, Trevor," she replied, pointing out the obvious.

"Yes it is."

"I don't speak Quintesson." She watched the young man slowly smile. A knowing glint lit his eyes. Rusti tried not to be annoyed. "What?"

"All you have to do is ask _me_." He laughed when the young woman once again found herself at a loss for words. "I run this place, Rusti!"

Surprise blanched her face. "You're Bare Anches?"

"Pffp. No. That's the name of the asteroid. Your Human physic is not equipped with the features necessary to pronounce my name. So I searched for one in your memory. Now don't freak out. I won't use anything I know of you as black mail."

Inclined to laugh, Rusti batted her eyes and smiled. "That's... so nice of you!" Her sarcasm would have made Rodimus proud.

Trevor nodded. "Have you found-"

"No."

"Do you know where-"

"No."

"Do you know how-"

"No."

Again he nodded. "Sounds like you're in a fix."

"Yeah."

"Would you like some help?"

A little more relieved, Rusti pursed her lips. "Yeah." Trevor nodded in Steeljaw's direction and waited for the young lady to catch up with him. From a pocket he produced a fruit similar to a nectarine and handed it to her.

"Thanks," Rusti accepted with gratitude. But she did not touch it. "It's not real."

"Sure it is. I took it from the kitchen." They paused and faced one another. Rusti's focus dropped from him to the fruit. "It's real, Rusti," Trevor assured her. "I wouldn't lie to you. I like you."

"But you're a holograph-"

"A psychic projection. Remember?" He lifted a brow.

"But if you're the lab's computer or the building's personality-"

"See, you're judging me based only on what you know and experience. You're not on Earth anymore."

Confusion kept Rusti from believing anything in front of her. "But you _can't_ be a _life form_."

Trevor took her hand and set the cold fruit in her palm. He watched her gape with surprise. "Define life forms, Rusti. Seriously."

Her brain drew a blank. "Uh..."

"Let me help: a life form is any carbon-based object, distinguishable from inorganic matter, capable of automation, of taking in energy, of reproducing its kind and often, of staking any amount of space as considered its territory. How's that?"

"Um, I think that works."

"It's also incorrect."

"Okay."

Trevor took Rusti by the crook of her arm and walked her along. "Do try the changuat. I hear nothing but praises about them. Now listen close. I'm about to give you a crash course on extraterrestrial life forms 101."

Since her assigned home ship, the Gabriel Genesis sat to far from the rest of the command staff, Cloudstreaker asked Convoy if she could do her work on the Razor Lady. Convoy, who loved Cloudy, was more than happy to have her former second-in-command onboard. She made sure Cloudstreaker had everything she needed to decode and decipher information gathered from the Quintesson's command base.

Since the Mark sat directly in front of the science and medical building, Magnus used the ship as a central communications and 'water cooler'. At least Convoy kept the heavy Autobot traffic off the bridge. But Magnus popped in now and again to verify data between the ships.

Cloudstreaker snitched glanced his way at every opportunity. She traced the contours of his forearms and the smooth lines along his thighs. She even caught herself staring at his audio receptors and flushed. Five minutes later, Magnus approached and knelt before her. Cloudy' power core vibrated so hard, she thought everyone on the bridge heard it.

"Lieutenant," he spoke softly and handed her a black and green digipad. "Rodimus stumbled upon this tidbit of information. I was wondering if you can verify it for me and correlate it against my findings. It's very important. And I need to keep it hush-hush."

"I'd be happy-" their eyes met and Cloudy's lips trembled because he was kissing-close. Her laser core stopped altogether. "I'd be happy to do so, Sir." The femme surprised herself with an unwavering voice. If she had toes, they'd be curling with nerves. Cloudy used every fragment of self control to keep from gripping his helm and kissing him for all he was worth. Magnus' sweet smile did nothing to help the situation.

"Excellent, Cloudstreaker. By the way, what are you working on?" He leaned to the left, one leg about to slide under the other, palms on the floor.

Was he going to sit next to her? Oh Primus, oh Primus! Cloudstreaker swore all her joints were about to freeze up or explode.

"Ultra Magnus?" Delta slipped onto the bridge, digipad in hand.

Cloudstreaker's optics dimmed in relief one moment, then darkened with an undercurrent of anger. Just when she was going to get half a moment with the Major-general, someone _had_ to take him away. The femme did not bother hiding the pout on her lips as he walked away. It just wasn't fair.

Something on the digipad Magnus handed her flashed for attention.

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 TO REQUEST SCHEMATICS FOR AUTOBOT ENGINEER KLASP.

Cloudstreaker reread the note, picked up her own digipad and requested a short profile on Klasp. Herself, neither a Prime nor a city commander, Cloudstreaker did not have a vast knowledge of the population. The femme reflected half the moment while she waited for the download. That was one of many factors she liked about Arcee: her friend didn't hang with the usual gossip circles. As a second-in-command (formerly, now), Cloudstreaker could not afford the indulgence of gossip. Not that she thought it a loss. But she knew few people and had fewer friends.

Her digipad bleeped twice, indicating the information arrived. Cloudstreaker examined the findings and grimaced. "Black virus program? What the pitt is that?" she scrolled further along "fried meta-processor, unrecoverable. Spaced and embedded in a ship's hull? Barbaric." Cloudstreaker tapped into her internal comline, hoping Arcee wasn't too busy.

"Hey," Arcee answered.

"Hey. Um, what do you know about a black virus program?"

"Black virus?" Arcee echoed. "That's nasty business. Why are you asking?"

"Something Ultra Magnus wants me to look into."

Arcee did not answer right away. "The Black Virus was invented by Decepticons back in 2008. It's a trojan that has a physical delivery system. Something like a bug or other object that might sit on the exostructure until the host hits it either accidently or on purpose. Either way, it releases a minute amount of acid that eats through the exostructure and delivers the virus. From there, the virus mimics the cellular energon delivery system so the electro sanitizers don't know the difference. From there the virus makes its way to the meta processor and crashes the CPU in the matter of a few days. We've never been able to hack the program and it killed six Paratrons."

"Wow." Cloudstreaker shivered with disquiet. "It sounds more like something the Quintessons might have invented."

"Is everything okay, Cloudy?"

"Hm? Yeah. It's just... disturbing." Cloudstreaker's voice trailed away, wondering how much pain Klasp endured before his death.

MEDICAL EXAMINATION HAS DETERMINED KLASP DIED FIVE WEEKS PRIOR TO HIS BODY'S DISCOVERY. DEATH WAS PREMEDITATED. INDICATIONS OF STRUGGLE ARE PRESENT. DEATH OCCURRED PRIOR TO THE BATTLE ON CRATIS.

Cloudstreaker couldn't keep the grimace off her expression. If Klasp did not die at the hands of a Decepticon then it's logical to conclude someone in the camp murdered him. But who and why?

She reread the sketchy details on Magnus' digipad and found Rodimus' data entry:

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 REQUEST ACCESS DENIED.

Cloudstreaker scrolled to the top and matched the data word for word:

USER AQUARIUS B94-1025-1018 TO REQUEST SCHEMATICS FOR AUTOBOT ENGINEER KLASP.

She searched the Aquarius user and found two Autobots with a similar code. Aquarius 29-QT8450-Pisces13: Talk Chalk. Nope. Not the same person. But the other one came up with Redial's name.

Cloudstreaker tilted her head slightly left and picked up a separate digipad.

_Dear Arcee, I'm about to commit a crime. Will you come visit me in the brig when I end up there?_

She signed it and set it aside to wait for an answer. Picking up her other digipad, the femme wiggled her fingers over it and typed into it at a secretary's speed. She cracked three codes and hacked into six files, one of which happened to be in Rodimus' pad. From there, the femme hacked her way into the Crested Moon and attained a Level Eight access code and used it to open Redial's personnel file and then his personal digipad. She slipped around a firewall and created a file that posed as a jpg.

Her internal comline bleeped, indicating a private channel opened from Arcee's end.

"What are you up to, Cloudy?" Arcee asked while she checked off security reports.

Cloudy stole a furtive glance toward the bridge entrance then a second glance at Searchlight who occupied himself with weapons updates. "I just hacked into Redial's digipad. But I can't do anything unless I know he's not looking at it."

Arcee smiled. "Did you need someone who can make a distraction?"

"You're my pal, Arcee. Think you can pull it off?"

"Just tell me where the little microbe is located."

Jazz scowled and turned from the Quintesson's communications panel as Ultra Magnus entered the science station's command center. The Major-general set a short stack of digipads on a nearby table and stared at the Trench Driver's captain with an air of expectancy.

"Don'tcha be lookin' at me like that, Magnus," Jazz grumbled. "I ain't gotta a single inkling how t' use any a this stuff."

Magnus looked unconvinced. "Jazz, you were a communications officer long before you and Optimus Prime left for Earth-"

"I'm a _specialist_, Magnus. Not a talk show host."

Magnus held his hands up in a defensive manner. "All I want to do is find the Primes, break the tractor beam that's keeping us here and get the Pitt off this chunk of rock. We can't do that unless we decipher-"

"Hey, hey, I ain't no Quint translation program. Seems to me, you got the wrong man entirely, Mags."

"Jazz-"

"Know what? Y'need somebody who's been around the Quints." Sonix' former city commander threw his arms in the air, "And it ain't been me, man. What about that sweet femme whose got an optic out for ya?"

"What?"

"Uh, Cloudstreaker?"

"She's what?" Magnus heard background chatter across the intercom. Something about a fight between Hotspot and Strike Back. He wasn't sure if he heard Jazz correctly or not.

"Well, she's good at languages," Jazz swiftly amended. "Know what? Better yet, how 'bout Cyclonus? He 'nd Galvatron hung around those slimy crack heads, least long enough t' pick up a few words."

Magnus brightened at the idea. "I assigned Cloudstreaker to another task. Would you be willing to work with Cyclonus?"

"Hells yeah, Magnus and you'd best go and break up that fight b'fore _I_ get involved!"

Magnus transformed and high-tailed his way one and a quarter miles from the command center. The Sabor's Claw stood witness to the brawl between two sizable and powerful Autobots. Prose, Linear, Drox and Negate rooted for Strike Back while Delta hung back and passively watched. Sky Hi, Volt and three EDC officers whooped for Hotspot's victory. At least fifty other citizens and officers watched on, entertained by beatings, cleaver moves and the exchange of a few antagonistic words.

Most of the onlookers scattered upon Magnus' arrival. He transformed and pointed to the ten guilty 'cheerleaders'. "Don't even think of taking off," he growled.

Hotspot stopped fighting, but Strike Back did not and took a last punch in before Magnus landed a powerful kick into the Paratron commander's left shoulder. Hotspot picked himself up and dislodged several sharp rocks from his armor. Strike Back hit the ground hard and slid several feet. He huffed, taking in air to cool his systems.

"What the HELL is going on here?!" Magnus shouted.

Hotspot glared. "Caught this vagrant an' a few a' his minions on m' ship removing weapons without authorization."

"That's a LIE!" Strike Back shouted in turn. "We're a supplies ship and we needed ammunition!"

Hotspot's optics flared. "I already checked with Arcee regarding yer inventory and she said yer r'ports said you got the correct amount a' ammunition! An' supplies don't mean _additional ammunition_, Skux-aft!"

Strike Back posed to tackle the Protectobot leader and captain of the Armored Crest. But with Magnus there, he didn't dare move from his spot. "Reports can be faulty!" he tried weakly.

"And yer a liar," Hotspot shot back.

"Enough," Magnus declared. "Strike Back, you're under arrest."

The Paratron jumped and again shoved his face into the Major-general's space. "I already told you," he said with low tones. "I don't recognize your authority. You can't tell me what to do. I am taking the Sabor's Claw and getting off this rock with or without you or your permission, gunkhole." Strike Back waited for an answer and sneered in Magnus' face. He turned away, spit a glob of oil on the ground and headed for the Claw. "Prose, Delta, get me a descent invent-GAAAHH!"

Strike Back lay face down, sprawled along the rocky ground. Magnus pointed his rifle at the Paratron's cheering section. "I will NOT tolerate insubordination of ANY KIND. How clear am I making myself?" He listened to their apologetic, if fearful, mutters. Magnus reset his weapon from Stun Level Two and put it away. "You will all be reassigned effective immediately and you will all be supervised from now forward. Sky-hi, Volt, Strike Back is under arrest. Put him... next to Daniel Witwicky. You'll receive your new assignments within the hour. Hotspot. Conference. NOW."

He danced. The floor beneath him vibrated with a crisp, heady thrum. Jazz bobbed his body up and down before he dove, rolled and spun on his back. Jazz was always a great dancer.

Sideswipe flapped his arms in slow motion. He laughed, overcharged with 'good stuff'. He swept an arm around Quasar, tipped her back and twirled her around his form. Sunstreaker couldn't wait for his brother to make a misstep in the dance. Sideswipe was never as good a dancer as he. Sideswipe was never as good looking or as intelligent, either.

Firestar stepped up and asked to dance but Sunstreaker laughed in her face. She wasn't pretty enough to share the floor with him. He did, however, ask Arcee to partner up. She accepted, so delighted to dance with Mr. Golden. He allowed her to follow his lead a moment or two into the song. He dipped her, kissed her then dropped her to the dance floor and stepped on her face and mashed her nose in. He stomped with all his might and pulverized her face, cracking her optics. He crushed her, crumpled her armor, cracked her head.

Her body lay prone while everyone else kept dancing. Nobody was allowed to be better looking than Sunstreaker. No one. He gripped her unshielded optics and ripped them out. He cracked open her chest plate and yanked out her powercore. Her fluids spurted all over him, all over the floor in a bath of death. Reflex motility jiggled her body and Sunstreaker laughed.

"Now you're beautiful!" Sideswipe's brother declared. He swept her body shell off the floor and danced while Arcee's corpse flopped and dragged like a burned and bloodied doll. "Isn't she beautiful?" he declared. "Maybe she'll be my bride!" he danced with the corpse as Sideswipe tossed him a smile of approval. Arcee's head lolled side to side almost in time with Sunny's flamboyant moves.

He laughed as the world passed in slow motion. The lights twinkled as with magic, the music slowed to an eerie drag. Arcee's skull lifted and Void's head replaced her mangled face. Sunstreaker released the corpse and screamed. He flinched backward but not fast enough, not before Void's neck stretched forth, fast as a cobra. The Virus plunged its demonic head into Sunny's perfect body, into Sunny's sacred space, into his core.

Sunny jiggled and convulsed. Who was the corpse, now? He lost his beauty. He lost his world. He lost his wit. He lifted his vocalizer in a guttural cry; a thing near to death that clutched at the hem of life with bloodied and skeletal fingers-

"G-g-g-g-g-gaaaahhhhhh!" He shot up from the flat. Words entered his audio receptors in fragments of pitch and volume. Warm metal painfully gripped his upper arms and Sunstreaker screamed until he recognized the words and the voice that uttered them. He froze, his optics locked on a soft globe of light.

"_Sunny! Sunny! I'm here, Bro! Here! Listen! It's me! It's me!"_

Sunstreaker, his body half-up, face drenched in light, settled enough to realize the dance was over. The monster left. The music ended. He keened low and mournful, a pitiful sound like a dying dog.

Gentle arms wrapped around his vulnerable frame. Sunstreaker kept his optics on the light. He drank it in as darkness encroached the landscape of his spark. Gingerly Sunny's fingers touched the Autobot who held him. He whimpered, "Ssss...Sssides, doan leggo. Doan leggo. I'm eaten, Sides. It's eating me!" He trembled as his brother gently rocked him to ease his emotional suffering.

"Thought I lost you," Sideswipe whispered. "Can't go and leave without me, Bro. You know that, right? You can't."

"Make them go away," Sunny whispered. "Make those dreams go away." His voice shifted from a whisper to a song, "_Make the dreams go away. Hear me now, what I say. Waking in the dark... waking in the dark... tearing you apart... inconsequential things occur  
alarms are triggered  
memories stir ..."_

Sideswipe parted from his brother, though his hands never left Sunny's rickety shoulder struts._ "inconsequential things occur ...alarms are triggered ..._ Sunny, that's Peter Gabriel."

"Hmmm..."

"You hate Peter Gabriel. You hateEmbossix and Classic Winds." Sideswipe stared through confusion. "And you don't sing."

"Hmmmm..." Sunny mourned quietly and rocked back and forth. "Sides? Sides?"

"Yeah, Bro. I'm right here."

"I don't wanna be here any more. Maybe... maybe we can go see a movie?" Sunny's sad face lifted like a child injured and uncertain.

Sideswipe pushed a smile over his lips. After the stunt just day before yesterday, he wasn't so sure First Aid would let Sunstreaker anywhere around any one for any length of time. Magnus certainly would not. And it wasn't that Sideswipe blamed them. But no matter how convincing he tried to be to himself and everyone else, Sideswipe knew he was losing his brother. The prospect left him raw; the emotions grinded him into a lethargic state.

_But_... there was Doublecross.

One hoop of energy revolved and rotated inside another; two great circles of power, inflamed by a technology far beyond Rusti's experience. She stared at them a long moment, mesmerized by their glittering brilliance. Every few seconds, the circles of energy lined up and a window to another place opened. Rusti thought she saw blue sky and ocean one rotation and flames and a celestial landscape the next.

Trevor watched with her as the circles lined again and briefly revealed a world with two suns. "Fascinating, is it? They were into all kinds of projects here."

"Hu?" Rusti batted her eyes and stared at the image of a boy she knew from school. The young woman wondered momentarily whether or not Trevor and his brother were even alive. Maybe their father was. Jax Tolomsky was awarded as one of the finest police chiefs Central City ever had.

Trevor nodded toward the forty-foot object. "The Quintessons, the Amuune and the Palequane. They were into all kinds of things."

Rusti narrowed her eyes. "Can you tell me everything about the complex? I mean, you're the computer personality, right? You can tell me anything I need to know, like how to shut the tractor beam off, what happened to the Imperium and how to leave this place."

Trevor lifted his eyes and nodded. "I like you, Rusti. But even you have to have clearance codes."

"Of course," she accepted. Steeljaw scratched a door at the opposite side of the room. His head dropped for a scent sample before the lion met Rusti's eyes. She and Trevor joined kitty and stared at the huge door. "What's in here?"

"You can't go in there," the psychic projected replied.

"I didn't ask to go in, I asked what's in there." Rusti now saw less of the boy she knew and more of the science complex's computer personality. Although, thinking on it now, Rusti wondered if it was the computer she spoke to, or the extension of a sapient consciousness. After all, Tele-Tran III was an artificial intelligence, sometimes referred to as 'he' by the Autobots. But it was still a computer.

"I'm sorry, Rusti. Unless you have an access code, I can give you no information." Trevor' neutral expression made her think of Data from Star Trek. The response might be friendly enough, but raised with Autobots, Rusti was no ignoramus about Newton's third law.

"Well, alright. Um. How about... Steeljaw, can you just give me a _scan_ of what's behind Door Number One?" She smiled when Trevor gave her a dirty look. Rusti shrugged. "You said _you_ couldn't give me access or information. It doesn't mean I can't _take_ it myself."

Steeljaw scratched the door and left four long marks on the metal. Rusti retrieved her helmet from subspace, slipped it on and dialed a connection between her systems and the lion's scanners. Thermal scans indicated a body on the other side but static ate the details. Rusti flinched when she thought she spotted something in the static, something with eyes and hands. She passed it off as jitters and stepped back a few steps. "Steel, can you break the door down?"

Trevor lolled his head on his shoulder, a displeased look hardened his eyes. "You know I'll have to sound the alarm if you do that, Rusti."

Rusti met his gaze with determination. "I am here to find my friends. I appreciate your help, but I don't have time or patience to play guessing games. Besides, there's a Virus running around the complex, now and the sooner we're out of here, the better."

"What virus?"

Steeljaw backed six yards from the door and with a running start, kitty slammed against the door, all claws extended. Steeljaw's impact embossed the heavy metal door with his paws, but the door itself did not break. Backing up one more time, kitty aimed all four of his laser weapons at the door's dead center and fired.

The door shattered and tumbled to the floor. Trevor cursed in fluent Quintesson. "I have to go, Rusti. Good luck on finding your friends."

"I thought you were here to help me find them." she replied sternly.

"I was. But someone's trying to hack into my security systems."

"I'm sorry, Trevor. I gotta do what-"

"It isn't you, Rusti," Trevor answered gently. "It's someone with really good skills. I'll have to see if they'll play a game of chess with me while I rebuild my walls. Good-bye." He vanished and Rusti huffed.

"Rebuild walls, my ass." she lifted her voice, certain he could hear her, "it won't do you any good, Trevor! There's a Virus on the loose!"

Steeljaw looked at her over his shoulder. "Mmmph?"

Rusti rolled her eyes. "Just like a man to leave me stranded on a date. Well, lead on, Steel. I have a good looking Autobot to get my hands on."

They entered the next room, their footfalls squelched with a sticky substance coating the floor. Rusti produced a flashlight and grimaced at blood, several dried puddles of it. Shapes hung in the air caught the cast-off from her light and upon illuminating them, the young woman froze and stared.

Skeletons. Dozens of them, all floating as though posted with invisible restraints. One figure resembled a dragon. The others looked like nothing Rusti recognized except for three Quintesson faces. Their faces hung, charred and battered.

"What the hell happened here?" Rusti moved only when Steeljaw moved. She panned her light left to right and back, finding a few other remains until she and kitty encountered one partition standing at the left. Something left its plating eaten away so that only brittle remains barely stayed intact. Rusti gave it the lightest touch and flinched when the whole thing collapsed.

"What do you think happened here?" she wasn't asking Steeljaw and he did not answer.

Some feet away, her flashlight reflected off a wall of rippling matter similar to water. Steeljaw's scanners indicated nothing was there; empty space. Woman and cat stood and stared until Rusti decided to pick up her bravery and test the field. She searched the floor for something to toss when a soft light flashed on, off, on again. Rusti and Steeljaw fixed their gaze on an opened window of light as it flickered until an image appeared.

"Oh, shit," Rusti swore. "No. Not here! Not now!" She set her teeth as a Matrix memory played itself on the wall. Sunstreaker laughed heartily. He threw an arm around Bluestreak. Bluestreak said something but the memory windows never came with sound. Chills ran up Rusti's spine and she swallowed hard.

Sunstreaker laughed heartily. He threw an arm across Bluestreak's shoulder struts. Rusti creased her brows in bewilderment. Had she seen this before? Did this happen before? In all the reported events she read regarding the Virus attacks, none of them ever mentioned a looping memory.

Her breath quickened.

Sunstreaker laughed heartily. He moved to lap an arm across Bluestreak's shoulders but he faced the 'camera' instead and his arm reached out the window and grabbed for Rusti. She screamed when his fingers came too close to touch and backed away, backed away, even as his arm retreated into the window of light.

Rusti's heel caught the ledge of something lying on the floor. She tripped backward and fell right through the floor, right through something that did not register on any scanner.

She lost her breath as she fell and fell. The next moment, she watched Steeljaw leap into the sky, falling after her. They fell as through the core of a planet.

Rusti blinked and stood in a high school classroom. At the chalkboard stood Mr. Krantz, her sophomore psych teacher. His light brown sweater hung off his lean figure just the way she remembered reading from her class book.

"_When Edward R. Murrow of CBS finally visited Auswitch after World War II, he said he described what he could so the rest of the world could understand just what kind of horrors men do to men. Ladies and Gentlemen, I want you to realize right now, right today, that what Murrow said was only a fraction of what went on in Nazi concentration camps. The rest, he said, he had no words for. Now, your assignment is to analyze this traumatic moment and in your paper, I want a step-by-step reconstruction of his reaction."_

Mr. Krantz spoke to an empty classroom. Rusti roved her eyes over vacant desks and shivered. Was this another Matrix memory? Was she caught up in it somehow? "What is this?" she whispered. "Steeljaw?"

Heedless of her presence, Mr. Krantz continued_, "And Mr. Tolomsky? (Pause) Trevor Tolomsky! Thank you for your attention, Mr. Tolomsky. Can you tell me how many pages your paper is supposed to be?"_

Now student bodies occupied the desks. Some of them jotted notes. A couple of them worked on other homework. One simply sat and stared into nothing. Rusti spotted herself sitting in the row opposite Trevor. Her other self smiled just enough that only Rodimus would have picked it up.

Trevor cleared his throat, "_I believe about three pages." _

"_Thank you, Mr. Tolomsky, for informing us of your ignorance._" Mr Krantz announced. With the valley of amnesia floating in her head, Rusti had mercifully forgotten what a dick Mr. Krantz was. "_I want six pages. I want a diagram with the report and an analysis of Mr. Murrow's history and what influenced him to say what he did._"

Rusti rolled her eyes. Six pages. She hoped she did more than six, just to be a smart ass. The young lady frowned. "At least at this point in my life I would have been a smart ass," she amended to herself. She approached the board and the teacher as he adjusted a pair of thinly-framed reading glasses. "You know, she said to the teacher's image, "Murrow witnessed some pretty bad stuff. But don't you think it's tacky to use his horrible experience to teach psychology? You've never been stripped of your dignity, drugged raped or tortured. What gives you the right to expose and exploit someone else's moment of emotional distress and weakness?"

Not that she expected an answer. Moments like these, be they dreams, visions or flukes of the conscious, never returned an answer-at least that which she remembered. Of course, conversation with her grandmother Witwicky when Rusti nearly died, didn't count.

Mr. Krantz turned back to the chalk board and scribbled what Rusti assumed was the homework assignment. But upon momentary scrutiny, Rusti realized he wrote in Autobot. Her brows furrowed. "What are you writing?" She backed up when he started a new row.

Omk zh'vvupteen. Omk zh'vvupteen. Omk zh'vvupteen.

"...omk..." A creepy sense of _deja vu _curdled her blood. "No games. No games. What's that mean?"

Movement from the classroom caught Rusti's attention and she watched her other self scramble out her chair and scuff backward, eyes wide and face pale.

Krantz sighed irritably. _"Miss Witwicky." he snapped. "What is it this time? Another trip to the lady's room?_"

Her other self stared right at her. Rusti tilted her head slightly left. "Can you see me?" she asked. She dared another step. What are you seeing? What's freaking you out?" Rusti turned round and spotted a shadow towering over her, an apparition with a horned head attached to inhuman appendages resembling legs. She stepped back for a better view.

"I've seen this before. But not here. It was on Cratis." She looked to her other self. "What's going on? What's that mean?" Rusti scoured her head, both places with memories and whatever she gleaned from other sources. The only answer coming her way was of Optimus. Nothing more. Nothing. She realized right then that everything around her stood frozen. Mr. Krantz pointed an ink pen at her other self. One student passed a note to another. Someone else gathered books, but everything looked as though someone pressed a universal pause button.

Rusti stole several feet and examined one student then another. She stared at her younger self before looking at the papers on her desk.

"Ten little Autobots walking on the line

One fell off and lost his mind.

God called the doctor and the doctor chimed:

Just move on and leave it behind."

She scowled and picked out another paper. _Choth, ime pyr croix incepency_; line upon line, upon line on both sides of the paper. "TREVOR!" Rusti shouted, "I'm not here to play games! I've had enough of this crap!" she searched the ceiling, waiting for something to change. "VOID! VOID, YOU DICKHEAD!"

Rather than an answer, the left corner of the room darkened. It spread and the landscape around Rusti changed. "Oh, crap," she whispered. The room faded away, replaced with a dark place lit by sleeping machines. Their hum filled the silence with haunting tones.

"Psychic projection," Rusti said to herself. "Some telepaths are known to send people into a dreamlike state... so I... was reliving a memory, although I don't remember the event. Something..." Her verbal reassurance failed to protect the young lady from the sensation of another presence. Rusti's mouth ran dry.

"S-Steeljaw?" she drew a stuttering breath and turned around. She kept her flashlight on the ground in case... in case she encountered a monster. "Steeljaw?" she repeated.

Galvatron's heavy voice filled the air with a strange comfort. "Rusti? Is that your squeaky voice I hear?"

"Galvatron?" her voice pitched with hope and surprise. He came into view and Rusti's blood drained with relief. Her legs weakened and she bent over, palms on her knees to keep from falling over. "Oh, geeze, please tell me you're for real!"

"I'm for-real, but not in the flesh, I'm afraid."

"What?" She stood up and startled when her eyes met his soft ruby optics. Galvatron smiled as he lay on the floor in front of her.

"I like your face," he purred. "Especially when you turn from surprised to annoyed."

"Galvatron! You almost scared the piss out of me!"

"I get that a lot, you know? Tell me, is it because I smell funny?" the Decepticon rolled onto his back and stared into space.

Rusti voiced concern and annoyance in one tone. "Where have you been? Where are Optimus and Roddi?"

"Uhhh... I've been playing tic tac toe with memories and hallucinations for the past ... several hours? Days? Can't tell. Had a wonderful one-sided conversation with Major-general Maximus Thrax. I knew he was an afthole, but... anyway. Rodimus disappeared. Pontiac slipped into the floor and I've not seen him since. I had no idea Optimus was missing and What's-His-Other-Name fell off the radar almost the second we stepped out of scanning range with the Hydroza."

"Highbrow, Galvatron." Rusti heaved a sigh. "And it's nice to find someone familiar-as long as you're not a hallucination."

Galvatron perked and sat up. "That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me! Now tell me, _Mizz Rusti_, you did not come here alone, did you?"

"No. But I have lost Steeljaw. And I fell through another floor so I have no idea where I am-er-we are now."

Galvatron lifted his head as though he heard something. Rusti watched the Decepticon, so grateful she found someone, even if she lost kitty. Fortunately, Steeljaw was capable of caring for himself. Galvatron stood and dusted his hands. "Let's head this way." He took three steps.

"Why?"

"I'm picking up an energy signature."

"But I'm not picking up anything," Rusti scanned the giant room filled with strange equipment, some of which stood broken. She met his optics and felt strangely calmed by his friendly smile.

"I'd not lie to you, Rusti," he said gently. She followed him through the room, their footsteps echoed against the high ceiling, a homage to a place not used in a very long time. At one point, Gavatron pointed to their left, indicating the corpse of some alien neither of them knew. Rusti quickened her pace and walked on the Decepticon's right side.

The room tapered into a short corridor. A shaft of soft light poured from another room at the end. Their pace quickened with anticipation. Taking the left turn, Galvatron and Rusti entered a brightly-lit area occupied by tall pillars of vibrating energy. Power strips ran along the walls and disappeared into conduits. At the dead center stood a great sphere of light, floating off the floor. It bobbed up and down now and again and transmitted a bolt of energy to a pillar.

"Optimus!" Rusti ran off before Galvatron reached for her. He followed the young lady to the far right-side of the room where Optimus sat before the wall, etching it with a laser knife. "Optimus," she repeated. Rusti touched his leg and tried to read his face.

Galvatron crouched behind her and peered into the Autobot leader's dark expression. Galvatron watched as Prime etched another word into the wall and frowned. "He's not here with us, Rusti."

"What?"

"Present, but not accounted for." Galvatron laid a hand on Optimus' shoulder but received no response. "Someone's home, but the answering machine isn't turned on. At least he's not violent. Possibly caught in a psychic mind trap just as we were."

Rusti gave him a double glance. "How did you know that I-never mind."

The familiar sound of Steeljaw's tap-scrape caught both their attention and Galvatron smiled. "Your steed has arrived, Mizz Rusti."

She approached the lion and hugged his muzzle. "Glad you're okay. Did you lose me or did I lose you? Cuz I thought you were with me." He gently nudged her then his head shot up, audio receptors pointed in several directions. Steeljaw's tail whacked the air with a sense of urgency before Galvatron and Rusti heard it too.

WHACK! CRACK! CRACK! TAP! TAP! Taptaptaptap...tap.

Galvatron stood and tugged Optimus to his feet. "That'd be the death knell of Moria. Let's go."

"The what?" Rusti didn't catch that. Steeljaw nudged her one more time and lowered himself for her. She climbed on and they waited while Galvatron swept Optimus up in a gentle hold and swiftly memorized Prime's macarnic inscription on the wall.

Galvatron led them forward on a longer stroll than Rusti could have kept had Steeljaw not found them. They approached the back of the room where Galvatron searched for an opening.

**CRACK! SSWAK! CRACK!**

Rusti glanced over her shoulder but she saw nothing nor did her scanners pick up movement or energy. She tightened her grip on the Autobot lion. Something was there, but not visible either to eye or electronic scan. Rusti's body jerked when Steeljaw leapt forward. The world fell again to the darkness of unoccupied space.

"Keep going!" Galvatron ordered behind them. Rusti held her breath as Steeljaw galloped, his metallic footfalls barely made a sound. She heard Galvatron behind them but could not tell how far.

A set of massive doors slipped apart like a set of jaws. A soft green luminescence welcomed the fleeing party and then the doors clanged shut and something slammed into them from the other side. It banged and thumped, but the doors did not so much as vibrate. A sniffing sounded behind the door before all turned silent.

Rusti released another huff of relief before scanning their current surroundings.

Green vegetation taller than the Dinobots enveloped them. Moss carpeted areas along a rocky path leading through the artificial forest. Kitty stayed up front as they followed the trail. Rusti removed her helmet and breathed in rich oxygen. Plants from uncharted worlds flourished in abundant color. Flowers caught her eyes in equal brilliance, some of which glowed or glittered. Then to Rusti's amazement, a bird flitted overhead and landed on a tree branch just ahead.

_Whooo-boo-boo-boo!_

A fan of blue and green feathers lifted from the back of its head while its tail fanned downward in black and gold.

"Stop here," Galvatron ordered more than suggested. Steeljaw turned as the Decepticon rested his burden against the same tree. Optimus' optics glowed dimly but his body slumped as though unconscious. Galvatron leaned to whisper in Prime's left audio. "Hey, I know you're in there someplace. When you get half a moment, there's a sweet lady who's waiting for you to come back to her." The Decepticon sat back and slowly smiled when his friend's optics darkened then dimmed on. Optimus moved as though in pain. "There you are," Galvatron whispered.

"We need to leave... Galvatron," Optimus sounded as sad and weak.

"Okay," Galvatron returned lightly. "But first, we need to rejoin Magnus and find Rodimus before he terrorizes the entire asteroid." Galvatron scrunched beside Prime, tugged Optimus' left arm across his shoulders, slipped an arm around the Autobot's back and managed a graceful rise.

"Roddi?" Optimus weakly echoed.

"That's right, is it not, Rusti? Rodimus the Terrible: alive and well on Bare Anches."

Rusti shook her head. "Will there ever be peace between you two?"

Galvatron guided Optimus to the path and sent her a brief, maniacal grin. "Only when it's Magnus season, Mizz Rusti."


	4. DEVELOPPE

NOTE: The author wishes to express her gratitude to all her patient readers. Croix Insepency is a difficult child to work with. The good news: the story is nearly completed. :)

DEVELOPPE

Cyclonus reported to the Quintesson central command as per Magnus' request. He expected to confront the Major-general regarding an imbalance in the asteroid's force field. But upon finding Jazz rather than Magnus, Cyclonus cleared and reset his assumptions and expectations.

Jazz dragged himself out from under a computer panel. He greeted the Decepticon lieutenant with a light smile before taking a gulp of energon rations. Minding his manners, he extended his flagon to his new comrade.

"I appreciate the offer, Commander. But I am fine for now." Cyclonus' hands twitched.

Jazz set the flagon down. "It's a peace offering, Cyclonus. I don't suppose ya git many of em."

"I don't, actually," Cyclonus confessed, deadpan.

"Yeah, I'll bet," Jazz muttered to himself. "Well, did anybody tell ya why you're hanging with me?" Cyclonus only shook his head. Jazz reached for a clean datatablet and leaned against the console. "I been asked t' find a way t' cut the tractor beam so we c'n git off this crazy rock. Trouble be, I doan speak Quintesson."

Cyclonus nodded, understanding. "And you're assuming that I might."

Jazz shrugged. "You an' ol' Laughing Boy did spend time with 'em. Thought you mighta picked up a cuss word 'r two."

Cyclonus' expression lightened so subtly Jazz did not pick it up. "Sounds like a long shot, Commander. You're right, of course. I can understand Quintesson. But how did you guess?"

"Y' ain't the type t' let nothing slip past ya. I mean... none a' them cons stepped outside the line so long as you were around. They didn't dare."

Cyclonus' optics narrowed and brightened. "Are you trying to flatter me?"

Jazz' expression darkened. "No. Jus' statin' facts." The Trench Driver's captain hoped his mouth didn't get him in trouble with Cyclonus by accidently insulting the Decepticon. Galvatron was willing to cooperate to the fullest, insulted or not. But he did not speak for his companion. Jazz's stress levels dropped when Cyclonus conceded with a nod.

"What did you need me to do?"

Cyclonus and Jazz poured through the communications equipment until Ultra Magnus arrived to check on their progress in person. He answered six internal comline calls, signed his authorization on two requests and answered four questions on his digipad. Two days of non-stop work left him not so much as a five-minute break. No word from Rusti since she escaped his authority to find the Primes and that, too, was a day and a half ago. Perceptor and his weary assistants completed repairs on the Dancing Siren's life support systems. Presently, Blue, Smokescreen and Grotesque slaved over the Siren's systems, triple-checking every square atom. Twelve other ships were ready for take-off; a miracle, considering the amount of time the Autobots spent keeping their vessels intact.

Magnus privately swore if they ever returned to Earth, he'd not venture an extended deep-space mission for the next million years.

Directing all his 'calls' to Convoy, Magnus crouched on the dusty floor where Jazz and Cyclonus worked to rewire the communications console. "How goes it? What kind of time line are we looking at?"

Because they dealt with highly sensitive equipment, Jazz and Cyclonus carefully lowered their digipads and tools in front of them to talk with Magnus. Jazz huffed a sigh. "Long an' hairy, Mags. It ain't pretty. Can't give ya an absolute. Them Quints rigged it so as nobody but their slimy tentacles c'n play on these boards."

Cyclonus took his turn: "there's something more," he added, "we've tapped into communications left under the emergency routing systems. Whatever happened here left clues in the messages."

Magnus swerved his optics from Decepticon to Autobot and back. "How so? What do you mean?"

Jazz nodded for Cyclonus to demonstrate. Galvatron's stoic friend reached for a small amplifier, attached it to his digipad and pressed three controls. A monolith of static phased into life a yard from Ultra Magnus. The static faded and a holographic single-headed Quintesson appeared. The image blinked out, returned and the Quintesson spoke without a voice until the sound file caught up: "_...our medical and science is Divinity at work. Practically nothing is impossible. Everything from medical miracles to psychic slaves tailored to your specific needs can be met... purchased here on Bare Anches..._" the hologram froze, blinked out and came back.

Magnus gave a sideline glance to Jazz. "How were you able to translate this so quickly?"

"Didn't," Jazz answered as he and Cyclonus exchanged tablets. "Some o' this public stuff's done in four differ'nt trade languages."

"_Thenoshian_ trade language," Cyclonus corrected. "It's a very upper-level black market language. There's also recordings done in Pabolak, Corsicus and Aramanese." Cyclonus held up a finger before stabbing his pad: "however, the Thenoshian language was recorded over a subfrequency sound. Jazz used his finesse and skills to filter it out:"

"_... installed the new virus... pregnancy results in five Forquaran days..."_

Cyclonus paused the message, "'Forquaran' refers to a dead solar system somewhere in the Beta Quadrant. It revolved around a star cluster every five hundred and two Earth days. The system itself rotates every forty-two point three earth hours."

Magnus, a hobby astronomer himself, couldn't believe what he just heard: "an entire solar system that rotates just like a planet? What by the Matrix could have caused that?"

The very corners of Cyclonus' lip components lifted slightly. "It pleases me to inform you that it was not our fault. At least, during Galvatron's rule over the Decepticon army. Nor do Decepticon archives mention anything of Megatron's occupation in that sector. Ergo, I lightly suggest you ask the Quintessons."

"Why?" Magnus kept his tone at one level while the Decepticon lieutenant used a sonic driver to make small adjustments on an adaptor.

"Because it's their garbage dump, their old laboratory and a storage facility. I would not even be surprised if the Quintessons also kept lock boxes there. As much as they brag and gloat, Quintessons like to keep their mistakes as secret as possible."

Magnus turned to Jazz, puzzled. Jazz returned his look with a shrug. Magnus frowned when Convoy contacted him internally to report three missing EDC officers. He silently acknowledged and returned to the moment. "Have you at least found anything about the tractor beam? Have you found a way to shut it off?" The Major-general turned annoyed when Jazz and Cyclonus exchanged a dubious glance. Jazz reached up and hit a nondescript button on the panel next to them.

A deep voice screamed above a room filled with other screams. _"Melice adar! Melice adar! Ahban toi chatran: melice adar! Croix insepency! Croix insepency!" _

A weapon cracked the air, electricity vibrated and the same voice returned with weak tones, gasping for air: _"Croix insepency."_

"What the..." Magnus choked back his fear, "I've heard that somewhere before, that phrase... Jasmine Goodwin-"

Jazz interrupted him. "That WAS the control switch for the tractor beam. It was rigged t' that recording for some reason. But it's only part a' longer message. Play it, Cyc. Play it all. He's gotta know."

"Know what?" Magnus' patience disappeared.

Rather than answer, Cyclonus pressed a sequence of buttons on his datatablet and the control panel lit up. A different Quintesson appeared. It tried to appear friendly and inviting, its holographic self stood aside to present Bare Anches' best asset: the hydroponics lab.

"_Greetings, visitors, friends and investors! We are pleased you have chosen to tour our highly advanced science and medical facility. Complete with five levels, our medical and science is Divinity at work. Practically nothing is impossible. Everything from medical miracles for the impaired and deathly ill to physical and psychic slaves, bred tailored and trained to your specific needs can be met here on Bare Anches.'_

'_For your convenience, we have installed a series of visitor's quarters and added many creature-comforts we hope will be to your liking as you tour our facility.' _

'_We are confident you will find something you'd either like to invest in or purchase right from the hands of our friendly and courteous staff._ _If you have further questions, do not hesitate to ask. We look forward to serving you."_

Cyclonus lifted a finger. "That was the full message. However, there is the message underneath that caught our attention:" Cyclonus flipped screens on his pad and his fingers danced over the controls. The holographic Quintesson next to Ultra Magnus shifted into the more familiar five-faced freak. Two tentacles limped with torn appendages. A wound wrapping covered its Face of Greed and black blood seeped from the left eye on its Face of Death.

"_Melice adar! Melice adar! Ahban toi chatran: melice adar! Choth! Choth! Ime pyr croix insepency. Naquamu! Ime pyr croix insepency_! _Croix insepency! Croix-_" the Quintesson in question took a direct hit and it blew to pieces.

Magnus flinched, although he knew it was only a projection. He tucked his dignity back in place. "I don't suppose, Cyclonus, you might tell me what they were just saying."

"_Melice adar _is a title, probably something like a head scientist or a program director. _Ahban toi chatran _is a plea to stop doing what you're doing. _Choth_ means _deadly danger_; the type of danger that, say, means the end of a planetary object or the destruction of a space station. Naquamu is a Quintesson's name. But_ Ime pyr croix inspency_... _everything has utterly failed with indescribably horrific results: Do not repeat this experiment._ It's the Quintesson equivalent of FUBAR... to use a Human term, which I know Jazz understands. Only, for Quintessons, it's times infinitely worse."

"At's right, Mags," Jazz added. "It's like 'the monster's loose', kinda warning."

Cyclonus lifted his digipad. "According to a few other transmissions we've gathered, whatever happened, freaked the Quintessons beyond even their unemotional rationality."

Magnus swam through the bad news to piece together the cause of their currently captivity. "The message was tied to the tractor beam controls?" Neither Jazz nor Cyclonus answered him, which, in their unspoken answer was 'yes.' The shock of bad news was hard enough to take, but the fact that the Quintessons encountered something that frightened _them_ held a weight greater than Magnus knew how to deal.

The wearisome burden lit up minutely when Cloudstreaker contacted Magnus through the command center's communication lines.

"Commander," Her voice brightened the room. "I think you need to take a look at this. Permission to meet with you, sir."

Magnus took three seconds to clear his overwhelmed processor. "Meet me at the entrance, Cloudstreaker," he permitted. And he dropped his voice for Jazz and Cyclonus. "Get that tractor beam offline. I don't care if you have to blow the building."

Sunstreaker sat at a long table in the science and medical's cafeteria. He slowly rocked himself and half-sang some old tune about rough highways and truckers. Sideswipe sat with him as they waited for Crossy to bring Sunny's energon. He refused to refuel with anything unless it was served boiling hot and spiced with thorium. Sideswipe picked up a digipad from Quasar and uploaded a few movies and a couple of episodes from some stupid, 'gurlie' series. At least the movies he found were Cybertronian-based comedies performed by an actor troupe from Fort Sagittarius. He and Sunny watched six movies already and thus far, his ploy to keep his brother calm worked just fine. The problem, however, sat next to Sideswipe, staring without looking. After the last nightmare escapade, Sideswipe did not think Sunny would sleep again.

Optimism was Sideswipe's only thread of hope. It slowly unraveled hour-by-hour as his brother slipped further from him and reality.

Crossy entered the cafeteria from the kitchen, bearing a tray of flagons. "Here we are, boys!" she declared cheerfully. "Straight from the hands of our master chef, Orbutus." The lady Monsterbot set a flagon in front of each twin before taking a seat.

Sideswipe set his digipad aside and waited for his brother to sip his first. "Sunny?" he asked. "How about one drink? Just one, just for me, okay?"

"_Ooohh... I'm drivin' my life away... lookin' for a better way for-or me. Ooohhh... I'm drivin' my life away, lookin' for a sunny day_...That's my name, isn't it Sideswipe? You call me 'Sunny', yeah?"

"'t's right, bro. Now drink before it gets too cold."

"That's for me?"

"Yeah. Crossy made sure it was done just the way you like it."

Sunstreaker bobbed his head and took a sip then a second one. "_Ooohh... I'm drivin' my life away... lookin' for a better way_..."

Doublecross set her energon down and nodded at Sunstreaker, but directed her conversation to Sideswipe. "What's with the Eddie Rabbit craze?"

Sideswipe shook his head and raised his arms up then dropped them in a shrug before turning to Sunstreaker. Sunny bounced his head while the old tune circulated in his processor like a windmill. He drank half his flagon, sang part of the song, drank more, sang more then drank the rest. He wiped dribble off his faceplate then peered into Sideswipe's flagon.

Hopeful at the prospect that his brother wanted more, Sideswipe eagerly slid his energon to the right. "Still hungry, Sunny?" he asked. "You can finish mine."

Sunny stared into it and held his gaze at the florescent liquid. "Always pretty," he sang. "Always so pretty. It goes into your insides and makes them pretty, too. Can I see them, Sides?"

"What?" Sideswipe tried not to recoil.

"Your insides, Sides. Lemme see your insides. Lemme see the pretty color coating your insides." Sunstreaker reached for Sideswipe's chest plate, fingering for the opening.

Sideswipe elbowed him off. "No. C'mon now, Sunny. Knock it off. Did you want more energon or what?"

"I want _your_ energon, Sides," Sunstreaker pushed closer, his hand gripped his brother's chest until Sideswipe pushed him off.

"Stop! That's enough, Sunny. Let's get you back to your quarters. Now." he removed himself and both their flagons from the table.

Sunstreaker watched him, head tucked down, optics bright with an emotion Crossy could not name... _predatory_, perhaps? She tapped the table for Sunny's attention. "Hey," she called. "Sunny? How about you, me and your brother there play a couple of games? Hmm? I'm sure you guys are tired of watching bad movies."

"What's that?" Sunny's optics slid to her direction. "'ts that?" he hissed in low tones. You said something?"

Crossy smiled nervously. "A game, Sunny. I just asked if you would like to play a game. You guys have been watching movies almost all day. Did you want to do something different?"

Sunny returned to rocking himself. "Game. Game. _Omk zh'vvupteen.__Omk zh'vvupteen__. __Omk zh'vvupteen_."

Sideswipe returned with a soapy rag to clean his brother. Standing behind Crossy, he stared, uncertain before huffing out his trepidation. He rounded the table, "Here, Sunny. Let's clean you up."

"_Omk zh'vvupteen__!_" Sunstreaker leapt out his chair and cratered Sideswipe into the floor. He clawed at his brother's chest like a cat before leaping off, feral and unpredictable.

Heaving in pain, Sideswipe layed a hand on the shallow wound. He rolled and pushed himself up. He expected his twin to vanish but one cursory glance out the hall told a different story. "Where the Pitt did he go?" Sides and Crossy scanned the cafeteria, holding their proverbial breath.

Crossy cautiously toed toward the unoccupied kitchen, "Sunny?" she called. "Sunny, please come back. We don't have to play games."

"Sunstreaker!" Sideswipe voiced frustration in his brother's name. "Sunstreaker, come on... let's just get back to our quarters, okay?"

Sideswipe grunted under his brother's sudden bodily impact. The two skidded along the floor, leaving sparks in their wake. Sunstreaker punched his brother three times before he sank claws into Sideswipe's head and slammed Sides into the floor. He succeeded twice before Crossy flew into him. They rolled in a tangle of legs until Sunstreaker kicked her off. He bounded away like a mad dog then caught the nearest wall and climbed it like a spider.

Doublecross charged her laser rifle and set it for stun. She and Sideswipe neared Sunstreaker with the caution of a trapper. Sunstreaker hissed in low tones and continued his ascent. At the three-quarters point, he turned and vomited. Sideswipe and Crossy leapt away as Sunny's volatile energy mix ate the nearest table.

Sunstreaker spoke with a double voice: "_Gamessss and gamessss. We remember the gamesss. Optimus said so. Optimussss remembers the games and we hates the games. All make unalive. Ashes! Ashes! They all fell down! Down! DOWWWWWWNN!_" Sunstreaker howled and slammed his head into the wall. "GET OFFA ME! GET OFF! GET OFF! LEAVE ME ALONE!" He heaved for air until a guttural noise welled from the bottom of his vocalizer.

Sideswipe cried out when Sunny released the wall and plunged into the damaged table. "SUNNYY!" Sideswipe dropped his weapon and gripped his fragile brother. He held Sunstreaker as gently as possible while he and Crossy searched for broken pieces."

"His left leg is fractured, Sideswipe," Crossy reported. Let's get him back right now."

Sideswipe lifted Sunny off the table and cradled him as they made for the door. Sunstreaker whimpered. His optics flared on then dimmed; two windows of pain and sadness. "Sssides..."

"I know, Bro," Sides cooed. "We're gonna take you back and getchya all fixed. You an' me can sit and watch some sleazy movie, yeah?" Sideswipe wanted to squeeze all his life into his brother. He focused on Crossy; the only thing that kept Sideswipe from falling apart.

Planted on the Razor Lady's bridge Convoy screened calls and situations for Ultra Magnus. She authorized a duty switch between Volt and Checker on the Trench Driver and ordered a downtime rearrangement for Notch and Postfix.

A call came in through the ship's secure com channel. From her seat, Razor Lady's captain routed the call. "Convoy," she answered in a soft, but husky voice.

"_Heya, Boss-Ma'am," _Blaster greeted over the air_. "Just wonderin' if you still got them stats on the refurbishing solder we picked up from Cratis."_

"Uhh... where's that digipad?" I know I have it, Blaster. Let me get back to you on that."

"_Aye, Captain, and thanks."_

Convoy picked up a badly scratched datatablet and sifted through the list of sign-outs she compiled earlier that day. According to her list, Searchlight was the last Autobot to sign out digipad #2527-Tau-A-pgT. She shook her head. Searchlight was notorious for failure to clean up after himself or putting things away. He also frequently left his post without authorization.

"Searchlight, this is Convoy, over." She waited, hoping he was with someone and not off investigating something he might have heard or thought he heard. "Searchlight, this is your captain speaking. I want a status report. Over."

Nothing. Convoy kept her cool. "Ion, this is Convoy."

"_Heya_," Ion answered with an even voice.

"Listen up, I can't contact Searchlight. Is he with you?"

"_No, Ma'am. Last time I saw him, he was with Cloudy."_

"Alright, thanks." Convoy cut the call and tried to hail the Throttlebot one more time with the very same results. "Damn," she muttered. She contacted Cloudstreaker, currently in a meeting with Magnus.

"_Commander?_" Cloudstreaker's mild voice filled the empty bridge with better formality than her peers.

"Hey, Hon," Convoy greeted. "Have you seen Searchlight? I can't seem to reach him and he has a digipad with inventory results on it."

"_I'm sorry..._" Cloudstreaker's transmission fuzzed with static then cleared, ".._.can ask Arcee if you need the data_."

Convoy puzzled over the static, "good idea. Thank you, Cloudstreaker." Convoy ended the call and paced the bridge, concerned. Hopefully Searchlight turned up soon; just so she could assign him a job reminding him rules regarding the buddy system.

"_Commander?_" Cloudy's voice returned, accompanied by additional static.

"I'm receiving you, Cloudstreaker," Convoy answered. "But you're not very clear." Static ate more transmission and Convoy struggled to make out Cloudy's words. "I'm sorry, Cloudstreaker, Seismic isn't at communications right now. Can you..." Cloudy said something more but her voice, distorted by static, sounded as though from a distance. Fed up, Convoy punched a control on her chair. "Freezeframe, will you please come to the-"

The main viewer flickered to life. Static snowed over whatever transmission struggled to come through. Half annoyed, Convoy turned it off. Whomever tried to reach her could call back. She tried to hail Freezeframe again when the main viewer flickered back to life on its own. Convoy froze and stared at the screen. Her power core vibrated hard, her anxious optics glued to the screen.

The static snapped away replaced by the picture of a strange tree. As though shaped from mud, the visual swept up and rounded the top like an umbrella. However, an upturned claw or thorn protruded from the tree's right side. Had she known at all, Convoy might have found herself mortified that the image was exactly that of Rodimus' "Tree" sculpture. The image, smooth in surface and curvature, blinked out then back and froze until the umbrella top portion of the rendering lifted upward and separated. It morphed into a triangular head. The frontal point of the head split open like a set of insect pincers.

Convoy trembled with terror and stepped back. Her fuel lines froze. Then a black, tapered appendage slipped out the screen and tapped on the viewer's bottom edge as though the drawing itself were searching for purchase on which to stand.

"NO!" Convoy drew her nitro-ion pistol and shot the main viewer. The screen cracked, the image disappeared and with it, the projected appendage. Convoy sank to the floor, trembling as with chills. "What... what did I see? What did I see? Oh, God, what did I see?"

Up to his elbows in grease and Snarl's internal components, First Aid did not hear the initial reaction outside the large operating room. He carefully removed the Dinobot's power core, cerebral aqueduct and central ventricle system and gently lowered them into a tank of special fluids.

Repairing the Dinobot left the medic no options other than rebuilding Snarl's body from the toes up. Several of the Dinobot's solar plates had been completely acid-eaten, leaving nothing but nubs on Snarl's back. He suffered from jammed weight distribution conduits. A severe leakage along his solar induction micro generators prohibited his body from properly breaking down energon intake and systemic distribution. Snarl should be dead but his spark vibrated with an attitude that demanded a second chance. First Aid was going to give the Dinobot that second chance.

The commotion outside the operating room finally reached the medic and his assistants. He lifted his visor, meeting Apogee's optics. They froze their visual contact a moment before Apogee stripped her gloves.

"Excuse me, sir, while I find out what's going on."

First Aid kept removing vital components from the Dinobot and set them in separate tanks where they'd keep until Grotesque and Perceptor finished with Snarl's new bodyshell.

Just as the doctor flipped on a laser scalpel for the next phase, Apogee burst through the twin doors. "They've found Optimus Prime."

First Aid huffed, left Snarl with Apogee, slipped off his coverings and rushed out to meet Galvatron.

"First Aid!" Blue tried to tag him the moment he stepped out. She spoke as he walked on. Hotspot joined her a moment thereafter and asked about one of his team members. Ion caught up with the growing crowd and asked whether or not First Aid had seen Searchlight.

As the huddle of Autobots neared Galvatron, Rusti and Steeljaw, Blaster stomped in just as Perigee brought up an antigrave stretcher. Blaster waited as Galvatron laid Optimus upon it. Galvatron bent over his friend, his hands clasped round Prime's right hand. "Not to worry about the paperwork, Optimus. I'll take care of it. You take the day off. Watch a movie, read a book, recite poetry to Rusti. We'll talk later."

First Aid caught up and passed a hand scanner over the Autobot leader. "Where was he? What happened?"

"Uhh... Galvatron struggled to find words to describe his questionable, incongruent diagnoses. After all, he wasn't a 'real' doctor. "Well, we got separated-"

"Alright. He seems to be okay. Perigee take him to room forty-six. I'll tend to him after I finish up with Snarl."

Rusti blinked on that one. "Wait, what?"

First Aid gave both Galvatron and Rusti a weary look. "Is he damaged? Did he damage anything? Do you know if he was injected with anything?" They didn't answer him fast enough. "The scanner says he fine-"

Rodimus' voice filled the immediate area with a strength that sent chills down Rusti's spine. "Tisk, tisk, tisk, First Aid." he caught up with Galvatron and crossed his arms. "You're putting the life of a Dinobot before our virtuous and heroic leader? Seriously? Oh, hi, Galvatron. Fancy meeting you here. You've been missed." Galvatron offered a hesitant smile but said nothing. Rodimus continued. "First Aid, how about sending Optimus through the fabulous collection of scanning equipment at your disposal? How about acquiring more help? Certainly we have enough Autobots _and_ to spare. I'd even recommend Ultra Magnus were he not preoccupied with other important matters. Rusti, you can stop staring at me." Rodimus leaned slightly past Galvatron and peered at the young woman with indigo optics.

Fear clogged Rusti's throat at first. She sucked in air and tried to pretend she wasn't nervous. "I'm sorry... Roddi. I was just wondering where you were. I went looking-"

"In all the wrong places," Rodimus sternly finished. "Just like you to take your time and poke around things far above your intellectual level. But let's not discuss that, shall we? Blaster, what are you standing there for? Give First Aid a hand. And the moment you bitch, I'll turn you into one."

Blaster assisted Perigee to direct the antigravity stretcher toward the assessment area lining the left side. First Aid turned away then turned back as he slipped on a fresh set of gloves.

"I'm sorry, Rodimus. I don't even know exactly what's wrong with Optimus. Physically, he's fine. I'll be sure to send a report-" he choked back a cry when Rodimus flashed in front of him from twenty feet away. First Aid did not even see Rodimus move.

"I can tell you what ails him, First Aid. You don't need to be either thick or coy about the situation. He swims in darkness. He walks along the Crumbled Paths, places no ordinary Autobot has ever seen unless they be Prime. Ooh... ever so careful, Doctor. Void plays no favorites. Even those between time lines are not safe. So you be a good little Autobot. I am leaving now to attend matters of a more... criminal nature."

First Aid watched Rodimus depart. Dread gripped the medic's power core with icy fingers. Just for a moment, First Aid swore he spotted a shadow following Rodimus; a shadow that looked suspiciously like the Matrix Virus.

Left to herself, Rusti sat in a small waiting area toward the building entrance. Her mind boggled from thought to thought, consternated by Rodimus' behavior. She worried over Optimus and thought it odd how the Autobot leader responded to Galvatron.

Leaning over, Rusti buried her face in her hands and rocked slightly. She hadn't eaten since Ambient gave her the snack; she didn't think she could eat. But a bath might ease her tension-and her drying skin. A little sleep might be wonderful, too.

The communicator on her exosuit softly bleeped. Rusti slipped on her helmet and activated the drop-down visual. "Hi, Ultra Magnus," she answered wearily. "I'm okay."

"Erm... I'm glad to hear that, Rusti. Try not to worry me again, all right?"

"Yes, sir."

"Listen, I hate to do this to you, Rusti. But I have no other choice. I need you to come to the Razor Lady and join us as a witness for the prosecution."

"Uhh... witness, Ultra Magnus?"

"I'll explain-"

"I'm sorry, Magnus, but I've been lost for almost two days. I haven't slept or eaten."

Magnus grew quiet and the young lady realized it meant he struggled to maintain patience. "I understand the fatigue, Rusti. But this is urgent."

Rusti sighed. "Alright. Let me grab something to drink and I'll be right there."

Rusti picked up a protein drink and a bar at the entrance. Her shoulders and neck ached from lack of rest and Void's form kept flashing through her head until she paused and recalled her experience inside the Matrix. She shuddered and kept walking, passing Bumblebee and Arcee.

Eject and Firebolt stood at the Razor Lady's boarding hatch. EDC officer Aldred Daily boarded the hatchway when the cassette Autobot and the Targetmaster blocked his path.

"Not today, Lieutenant," Eject announced. "Sorry."

"What? I got files I need to retrieve!" Aldred huffed.

"Sorry," Firebolt signaled for Rusti to approach. "Magnus' orders."

"It's called _business_, Firebolt. Now let me through!"

Firebolt and Eject parted for Rusti to slip past. Aldred snorted. "Oh, so you'll let a little girl, who contributes nothing through but an officer isn't allowed?"

Firebolt scoffed. "What part of _Magnus' orders_ don't you get? What? You want me to break it down into a series of single-syllable words and spell them out for you? Look, I'll even draw you a picture, if you like. Shove off!"

Rusti quickened her pace because she feared she'd laugh to loudly. Taking the lift to Level Two, Rusti followed Magnus' directions down three corridors and to the left. She paused at the echo of her footfalls and slowly turned round.

Nothing.

She took another step and it created a strange echo, as though her movements were mirrored. With a shake of her head, she turned back and ran into a giant mirror. Rusti laid a hand on it to be sure it was solid and not something her head made up. Her reflection appeared dark and a blue fog spirited behind it. She glanced back and found the corridor just the same; the lighting and the blue strip bars all appeared normal. Gazing left once again, she came eye-to-eye with a single-faced Quintesson. Its huge head pushed against the glass barrier; owlish eyes took on a begging expression.

"Ohmigod," Rusti breathed, "this isn't the Virus. What's going on here?"

"_Ogkubutho_,"

Surprised she heard him, Rusti only shook her head. "I'm sorry... sort of. I don't know what you'd want me to do."

"_Engli torp. Engli torp. Choth! Tepu, ime pyr croix insepency_. Croix insepency!"

Void appeared as though bursting into a wall of glass from the right side. The Quintesson screamed. Tentacles flailed as the Virus buried Its head into the squishy backside of the Quint's brain.

Rusti covered her mouth and turned away as the Quintesson shrieked and slapped the glass barrier.


	5. EFFACE

EFFACE

"_Rusti, are you alright?"_

Rusti startled and found herself sitting in a padded folding chair at the back of a conference room. two folding tables headed the front and before them stretched another long table at which sat Rodimus and Ultra Magnus.

Rusti swallowed and trembled, disoriented. Ambient sat beside her and showered the young woman with a smile. The femme leaned over to whisper in her ear: "_Try not to fall asleep._"

Still shaken, Rusti merely nodded and blinked rapidly while her brain whirled with questions.

Magnus triple-checked the five digipads sitting to his left while Rodimus stood to address the assembly. "I think all bodies ordered to blow in have arrived. Let's hit the start button. Prosecution: Cobalt, goes first. Defense: Improv, will follow. And don't bore us with repetition or emotional crap. We don't have time for it." Rodimus sat down and rested arms on the table, fingers intertwined.

Cobalt took the floor, digipad in hand and faced the assembled Autobots and organics. "You've all been asked to appear today because each of you are witnesses to an accumulation of incidents that have led to sabotage, betrayal and murder. Due to the current circumstances and situation in which we find ourselves, this is a closed room. The trial is televised across the fleet, but we hold no audience here, all seating is reserved for witnesses only. Rodimus Prime and Ultra Magnus have agreed that this trial is to be kept short and there will be no appeal unless witnesses and evidence point to a reasonable doubt in favor of the accused. With that said, the Prosecution wishes to make the case."

Magnus nodded once. "Request granted."

"September 2038. The year the Quintessons invaded Earth and drove us into refugeeism. One of the many events that lead to our departure was that of failed defense systems. Every fortress city, and the computer that oversees central and external controls, failed to give advance warning regarding attacks by the Quintessons and the Inoux-and strangely enough, mechanisms that rooted the cities themselves from underground."

Cobalt paused a moment. "Survivors from Fortress Sonix, Fortress Draco and Fortress Maximus all reported failures in equipment, failures in perimeter defense systems and failure by the computer system to forewarn underground proximity invasion. What that means is all fortress cities are equipped with artificial intelligence. They know when barriers are breached. They can identify over a million types of foreign materials. The only things that could slip past the guardian force shields of an Autobot city are phasing technology, as demonstrated more than once by the Quintessons... and ghosts."

Cobalt waited for the audience to snigger, although he was not joking about ghosts. The Autobot programmer eyed Rodimus Prime before he continued. "Questions and rumors regarding the surprise attack and consequential Quintesson invasion have circulated among the fleet since our departure from Earth. Whomever, _whatever_ was responsible for laying the fortress cities, and thereby, Earth itself at the mercy of hostile forces knew exactly how to do it, and did it without leaving so much as an evidentiary trace filament."

The Autobot prosecutor paused again and caught the optics and eyes of those present in the room. "So, just exactly what would it take to disable the defense systems and warning systems of a fortress city?" Cobalt shrugged. "We're hoping to answer that question during this trial."

Again Cobalt let silence fall before making another count in the prosecution. "Let's advance the time line to six weeks ago. The fleet took temporary bivouac on the planet Cratis. And I know I speak for everyone when I say that it was a tough time. The ships were in disrepair. The water was unusable. Supplies were limited. A lot of people required medical attention. And then, naturally, we get an unwelcome visit by a new Decepticon faction. There was an awful battle of which we survived. And then, with the ships repaired, we started leaving Cratis. Except, somehow, the Crested Moon could not take off. Sabotage? Accident? We'll look into that, also.'

"Finally, just two weeks ago, two Autobots were discovered dead by two different people. Medical examination has recorded that neither death is the result of the battle on Cratis, nor that during the escape from Earth. These accusations are not lightly made. The subterfuge was deliberate, well-planned and professional. Most of the evidence was found by sheer accident. Ladies and gentlemen, I stand before you as prosecutor in search of justice not only for the two Autobots found brutally murdered, but in search of justice for the millions of people affected by the Quintesson invasion of Earth. And while I believe the defendant here today did not act alone, it behooves me to set him apart and place him on the scales of justice for acts of sabotage, destruction of entire cities, the death of uncounted thousands and the endangerment of those onboard the Crested Moon.'

'The defendant, Redial, communications officer on board the Crested Moon, is accused of all the aforementioned. From sabotage of defense systems of all the fortress cities on Earth and Mars, to the near-destruction of the Crested Moon, to the deaths of Autobot engineer Klasp and xenobiologist Orca. It is my goal to prove beyond the shadow of a doubt that Communications Officer Redial is guilty of these crimes."

Cobalt returned to his table and scanned through a datatablet. At the front Rodimus and Magnus exchanged pads, scribbled notes on them then fixed their gaze upon Defense representative Improv.

The Paratron triple changer stammered to himself before taking the front. "Well... seems prosecution has set up a pretty good case. Naturally, the responsibility of proof lies in their hands. Funny thing is, they managed to single out one person. One person did all that? One person had the ability to sift through hundreds, maybe thousands of pass codes and firewalls in order to bring down the Earth? Really? And why, I must ask, would someone such as my entrusted, here; why would anyone want to create a situation in which they too, would suffer, or even end up terminated? Where's the logic in that?"

Improv paused for the same effect as Cobalt. "This case is absurd and I will impress upon the witnesses and our leaders to weigh the evidence verses the plausibility. How could one person do all that?" Improv scanned the room once then silently took his seat.

Cobalt claimed the floor and called on the first witness: Eclipse. "You're the... what, on board the Crested Moon?"

"Midshipman." Eclipse glued her optics on Cobalt.

"What's that mean? What are your duties?"

"I troubleshoot and correct problem drive systems between engineering and navigation. I check for power balance and communications between the navigational drives, the forward thrusters and engineering power output."

Cobalt nodded. "So you're in sub-engineering."

"Yes, sir."

"That day when we left Cratis. All the ships took off according to a predetermined schedule set by Ultra Magnus. The Crescent Moon failed in lift-off. And according to several reports, there was a commotion on the bridge-a commotion in which Optimus Prime had to send someone to the brig. Can you tell us, Eclipse, exactly what happened?"

She hesitated as guilt scrawled over her face. "There was ...we were about to lift off when navigation... that's Linear... couldn't retract the docking clamps. The docking clamps appeared to be jammed."

Cobalt nodded and scanned the small audience. "You know, Eclipse, not everyone here knows how an Autobot space cruiser operates. So, can you give us an idea how the docking clamps work, or are supposed to work?"

"Uh... well, the landing gear works in conjunction with the engine; the ship's engine starts a shutdown sequence, the landing gear folds out, the wings tilt up slightly. The ship lands and the docking clamps secure the vessel to the ground. If the ground is metallic, then the docking clamps employ an electro-magnetic field. If the ground is organic, then the docking clamps insert eight-foot steel spikes into the ground. In lift-off, the spikes are retrieved, the clamps fold up and the ship takes off."

Cobalt returned to his table. "But the clamps were jammed, preventing the Crested Moon from escaping an impending Inoux attack, weren't they?"

Eclipse nodded. "They kept telling me I screwed up; that I did not follow through with my job-"

"What was the argument about, Eclipse? The one on the bridge?"

"Linksys insisted the clamps weren't working. Redial insisted they were and that Linksys wasn't doing his job right. So I enacted a scan and found all my personal access codes were erased."

Cobalt let silence hang for a moment. "So, when the docking clamps malfunctioned, Optimus ordered someone to fire on the ship-and I presume he meant someone had to blast off the docking clamps."

"Yes, sir."

"What, exactly, did Redial have to do with the argument? What's his job on the Crested Moon?"

"Um, he's the communications officer." Eclipse eyed Redial at the defense table before looking left at Cobalt.

The Paratron investigator peered at Redial then back to Eclipse. "Don't you find it odd that the communications officer would accuse navigation of not doing his job?"

Improv piped up, "objection. The question is irrelevant."

Cobalt lifted a finger to continue his point. "It's very much relevant and I will make that clear: Eclipse, what happened thereafter? How did the Crescent Moon escape Cratis without damage to the clamps?"

"Uh... I wasn't there personally, but I read a report stating that Blaster fixed the problem."

Cobalt feigned puzzlement. "Huh. A communications officer fixed a problem that supposed to be a department of engineering? What-what about your pass code access points, Eclipse? Are they working now?"

"I had to erase all my access points and reestablish my status with the drive systems."

"So you had to start from scratch," Cobalt assumed.

"Yes."

"Interesting. Well, thank you, Eclipse. Ultra Magnus, I have no further questions."

Eclipse squirmed in her seat as Cobalt settled behind the table and picked up a datatablet. Rodimus called for defense to take the floor and Improv slithered around his table; a smile shadowed his face.

"Hmm. Let's see..." he scrolled over his datatablet, "Eclipse, my research shows that your expertise is not in sub-engineering. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"You initially originated from Fort Sagittarius, working in the city's transform maintenance division, were you not?"

"Yes."

"So, how was it that you were assigned as sub-engineering?"

"I worked with cargo shuttles on Paratron and Cybertron before assigned to Earth."

Improv lifted his expression. "Ah. So you do have some expertise in the area."

"Yes."

"And if you're so experienced, how was it that you did not detect a problem with the clamps before lift-off?"

"I-"

"It is supposed to be your job to make sure all systems under your charge are working properly and either repair them yourself or make sure they are repaired by someone else if something is wrong. Is that not right?"

"Yes-"

"Then how was it that the clamps were not working at all? How could you have not known there was a problem?"

"I checked them earlier that day, the same time everyone else checked all the Crested Moon's systems in preparation for lift-off. Everything checked out-"

"Did you bother to make sure the software and wetware assembly was connected?"

"Well, no. But-"

"Then you did not do your job."

"I lost my access!" Eclipse desperately added.

"No further questions, Rodimus." Improv dropped into his chair behind the table.

"Thank you, Improv," Rodimus grumbled. "Cobalt, if you have another witness..." Rodimus waved a hand as though waving off a fly. Eclipse removed herself from the witness seat as Cobalt stood.

"Thank you, Rodimus. Prosecution calls Alto to witness... please?" He and everyone else watched the slender, gold and grey femme take the front. She sat in the chair and folded one leg over the other. Her face reflected confidence.

Cobalt approached and made sure the small audience had full view. "Alto... tell us of your... what do you do?"

"I am fleet cartographer."

"So you map out our navigational readouts?"

"Yes."

"You're also trained as communications back-up, are you not?"

"Yes."

"So, you know the other communications officers; uh, Blaster, Ambient, Redial, Talk Chalk and Wavelength... uh... Mnemonic and... Volt, is it?" He waited for her affirmation. "Yes, of course. So, you know the defendant, right? I mean, everyone does. It's no secret that there's been a rivalry between you and Redial. Both of you act as 'floaters' between ships that do not have a communications officer. Am I right? Again the prosecutor waited for Alto's answer. He hesitated and pretended to read from his datatablet. "Not more than two and a half weeks ago, a _Wednesday_ by Human reckoning, you and Redial got into a rather vicious fight-I mean, this wasn't the only confrontation between the two of you, but that particular day, you two just went off like a pair of bulldogs. Would you tell us what went on? What was the fight all about?"

Alto nodded deeply. "I caught Redial tampering with a communication relay on board the Gabriel Genesis."

"Well, now that's Rodimus' ship, isn't it? The Gabriel Genesis?" Cobalt lifted his optics from Alto to Rodimus and back. "How do you know he was tampering? What exactly was he tampering with?"

"I caught him tampering when I worked on my daily scheduled check points."

"How's that? N-not everyone here knows about communications or cartography or stuff that you do. So... how about you tell us what that's all about?"

Alto curved her lips in a light smile. "Think of communications as though it were a tree. You have the trunk, the roots, branches, twigs and leaves. Relays act as the roots of a tree. They are buffers that prevent one conversation from crossing into another. Crystalized isolinear components empower the subspace lines linked between person-to-person, person-to-ship, ship-to-ship, all computers and other equipment across the fleet. My duty as communications officer is to maintain, repair or replace components, lines and power grids on each ship."

Cobalt gave her a dubious look. "Sounds complicating."

"Oh, I love it! I love what I do."

"But you... don't seem to approve of Redial's work ethic?"

Alto stared daggers at the defendant, "If I had my way, I would have cut his hands off."

Rusti fought sleep as Alto gave the rest of her testimony. The femme's technical jargon shot over the young woman's head like a Bowing 557.

Someone touched her elbow and Rusti shook her head, pried her eyes opened and shivered. She was not in the courtroom; now she sat in a nightclub. The dim lighting gave an atmospheric feel of comfort. The scent of alcohol and food filled the air. A crowd of people faced the club stage where a humanoid male stood with a piece of paper in his hand.

"I told a friend of mine that my sister hit me the other day. He said 'Lauk! You got beaten by a gurl?' My first guess was that my friend didn't know girls could hit." The crowd chuckled and the comedian continued. "I said, 'I said my sister hit me. I didn't say anything about a girl."

The crowd broke into laughter and someone on Rusti's right leaned closer and whispered, "this guy really needs new material."

She turned and found Ambassador Koontah at her table. He nursed a cup of coffee, or at least an extraterrestrial equivalent thereof. He pointed to the stage where the humanoid comedian was now an Autobot Rusti did not recognize. He sat on a metal stool while the background behind him portrayed a space scape.

"My friend, Orb, approached me the other day. 'I've decided I want to procreate," he declared. I stared, confused and dumbfounded. Not because he was thinking about having offspring, but because I was worried for the baby. I said 'Okay. So... how long has this been in your processor?'

He said, "about an hour."

The Autobot comedian nodded sagely when the audience laughed. He paced, shook his head. "I said, 'Orb, I don't think that's one of your better ideas.' he said 'why? Everyone does it. How do you think I came about?'

The comedian searched the ceiling with his optics, feigning patience. "I _really_ wanted to tell him that mistakes happen all the time. But I didn't say that. Instead, I said "Orb, I don't think it's a good idea because the poor offspring will look exactly like you."

The audience thundered in giggles.

The Autobot waited for the room to settle. "He was so upset that my friend decided to see the Matrix. After saying something like that, I didn't have the heart to tell him that the Matrix doesn't take appointments from the terminally morose."

The room rumbled with laughter and applause. But Rusti did not see why that was so funny."

"I hope you realize you're going to get into trouble," Koontah said next to her. The audience rumbled in conversation as the comedian took a break. Rusti held the Wanakian Ambassador's solid black eyes.

"I'm guessing I'm dreaming," she surmised.

"No one dreams on Bare Anches, Miss Witwicky." he added a spoonful of sugar to his coffee. His furry ear twitched and Rusti briefly wondered if the ambassador ever suffered fleas.

She banished the thought and stared at the stage. "But I'm dreaming now. I'm supposed to be at a trial."

"Yes. And yes, he's guilty."

Her head snapped back to him, eyes wide, mouth open. "Ohmigod."

"You're not dreaming, Rusti. You're communicating with _me_."

"Ambassador Koontah is back on his home world. You can't be him."

He smiled, revealing perfect white teeth. "Who said I was the ambassador? This is how you perceive my personality, Rusti."

"Who are you?"

"_I suspect that eventually one decision, Rusti, will determine your entire life: both your future and your past."_

**Rusti Witwicky to the stand.**

She jolted to life and greeted Ambient's grin with a sheepish smile of her own. Disoriented yet again, Rusti excused herself as she passed a few people on the way toward the front. God, everyone's eyes/optics will be on her! Rusti's heart raced. Her cheeks flushed and her brain turned to mush.

She looked to Rodimus whose optics dimmed with a strange darkness. He winked at her and Rusti's innards flipped. All her internal bells went off. Rodimus should be sedated and strapped down. But like everyone else, Rusti decided not to confront the Autobot leader of his present state of mind; not at the moment, anyway.

Cobalt glanced at his datatablet. "Miss Witwicky..."

His voice trailed off and Rodimus' faded in, [_Don'tchya worry, Lady Friend. Just answer his questions._]

[_Am I that obvious, Roddi?]_

[_Mmm... you could say that. And stop sitting on your hands. It's impolite._]

Rusti shuddered and folded her hands on her lap. She tried not to think how everyone watched her. Did they know she was jittery? Did they know she fell asleep? Did they know?

"Miss Witwicky?" Cobalt searched her with inquisitive optics.

"Um..." Rusti considered this worse than standing in front of a classroom, "c-could you repeat the question? I'm sorry." Someone in the room huffed with impatience and it did nothing for her nerves.

"How did you know there was a body onboard the Sunset Kummya?"

"Um..." Rusti did not want to say it; not to the audience and not to herself. "I heard the ship complain of discomfort."

The audience quietly murmured with disbelief. Magnus struck the table with his hand once and silence turned the room dead still. Cobalt paced toward the middle.

"So, you knew there was a body onboard?"

"No."

"You had no previous knowledge of Orca's dismantled body lying under the floor plates in the ship?"

"No."

"What about the incident regarding the Spiral Star?"

"What about it?" Rusti realized she sounded unintelligent in the face of the audience. Her brain shut down and she wanted to hide.

Cobalt tapped into his datatablet and set it in front of her. "This," he answered sternly. "This is a report from the Star's repair crew regarding damage found on the ship's sub transducer kappa-nu relays." Rusti knew he saw the blank look on her face. She had no idea what he was talking about. Cobalt pressed onward: "It states: "Communications; sub transducer kappa-nu relays are found missing five proton staples. Interlink twenty-five, cross link forty have three lines cut, two lines ripped off their circuit boards." So now I have to ask you, Miss Witwicky, how is it that you were able to accurately assess a problem that the ship's computer failed to detect?"

Rusti stared at the report. Flashes of memory brought a face back to the present; something alien, thin and grey. It was a girl with hollowed eyes, scarred cheeks and needle holes. Her split lips swelled with infection. Rusti dragged her head back to the room, back to the trial. "Um, I can hear ships speak to me. I think everyone knows that by now."

"Were you aware that the Spiral Star complained of sabotage? Did you recognize it as sabotage?"

Distant music reached Rusti's ears, or rather she imagined music playing somewhere far away. "Um, I'm not an expert by any means. All I did was mention what I heard."

"Is that so?" Cobalt challenged. "And what else did you hear the ship say, Miss Witwicky?"

Rusti batted her eyes twice and thought: _That it wants to put on a dress, high-heeled shoes and go out on a date with Ultra Magnus!_ She cleared her throat to keep from laughing at the image in her head. "Um, it, the ship said... well, it _read_ the signature of a scalpel used to cut lines."

Cobalt nodded. "And was that scalpel tetra tri-audio ninety-six point zero seven on forty-three point nine cyberwats?"

She squirmed. "I can't honestly remember the exact type. I was recovering from injuries I sustained from a fight with a Decepticon."

Cobalt's face softened. "But you recall a tool mentioned by the ship, is that not right?"

"Yes, I remember there was the mention of an instrument."

"That's all I need. Thank you, Miss Witwicky." Cobalt turned away and the music filtered through the walls and floor. Rusti closed her eyes. The lyrics sounded vaguely familiar.

_In the naked light I saw . . . _

_The deathly pale scream._

_In the naked light I saw_

_things that shouldn't be . . . _

_I am contaminated._

Rusti batted her eyes when a shadow passed in front of her. Improv's alien animal design obscured the ceiling lights and Rusti momentarily forgot she was in front of an audience.

"Are you with us _now_, Miss Witwicky?" the defense representative asked sharply. Rusti dumbly nodded. Improv dragged his line of sight to Magnus and Rodimus. "It seems clear to me that the girl here is delusional. Perhaps she suffers a similar ailment as Jasmine Goodwin? Certainly she's not a raving lunatic-"

Rusti glared. "If you have a question, I'd appreciate it if you'd direct it at _me_."

Improv's smile turned to condescension. "Oh, so you are interested in joining the rest of us, are you, Miss Witwicky? Please tell us when you first became aware that you had the ability to communicate with ships. I'd love to know all about that. It's no secret that you have some sort of... talent. Certainly something that can charm our leaders into doing whatever pleases you. Oh, I'm sorry, am I getting personal there?"

Rusti's glare ran icy-cold. "I'm sorry, could you repeat the question? I've missed your point."

"Well..." Improv paused and searched the room's far right corner. "It's just that I question your credibility, Miss Witwicky. For all we know, you could have sabotaged or rigged the records. You could have done the damage yourself. As for the body... well, for the most part, evidence is inconclusive. Oh, well, of course, we know that Orca died before the battle with the Decepticons. But maybe it is that you knew where she was all along. Poor dear; locked up in that small space and you waited until the right moment to point out her whereabouts."

Rusti pursed her lips and nodded. "You know, your little assumption might actually work except that I was onboard the Crescent Moon when I first heard the Sunset Kummya complain."

"Complain?" Improv scoffed. "Ships complain? Are they ticklish, too? Do they sing? Do they quote poetry?" A few sniggers followed Improv's jest. He held up his hand for another question. "Miss Witwicky, do you know the defendant at all?"

The young woman shook her head. "Only by name and assignment."

"So, from where you're sitting, you can't tell me anything about the defendant? You can't read his mind?"

Her brows creased with annoyance. "No."

"Then tell me, Miss Witwicky," Improve pressed, "how do we know your little skill isn't some sort of cheap trick? How do we know you didn't stage the incidents?"

Rusti's attention slipped from the defense rep to the wall on the right. It swirled and moved as though millions of metal bugs crawled along its surface. Improv yelled at her, demanded she explain herself. Rusti set her gaze on him and remained calm. "_Emphacto, Improv. Sh'shtaz sik t'tok. _Omk zh'vvupteen." Rusti heard the words in her own voice but she didn't think she really spoke them. Clearly Improv didn't like being accused of playing games. He glared at her with flaring optics and bowed back to his seat.

Magnus quietly dismissed Rusti as Cobalt stood. "I have another witness, if that's alright?" he asked.

Magnus gave consent as Rodimus watched Rusti walk down the isle to her seat. The further she walked, the younger she became until she reached her seat. At that point, Rusti turned into a hand-knit doll. She hopped into the chair and sat quietly. Her face, devoid of emotion, stared straight ahead and did not look at him.

Cobalt called Galvatron to the witness seat. Magnus inwardly groaned and hung his head. Galvatron quietly took his place and glued his optics to Cobalt, knowing everyone else stared at the Decepticon.

"Galvatron, you were the one who found the body of Autobot Klasp, were you not?"

"Yes."

"And did you know aforehand that the body was there?"

"No."

"Can you tell us the condition of the body when you found it?"

"Dead."

Magnus dropped his head into his hand.

Cobalt tried again: "Will you tell us the _state_ of the body when you found it?"

"Well, truth be told, I dropped out of forensic school. Things that ooze 'r just... ewwey. However, I was bright enough to discover a body tucked into an external exhaust hatch on the Sunset Kummya." Galvatron scanned the room and his optics contacted Redial's. He flashed a grin then turned serious when Cobalt asked another question:

"But would you or would you not say that the person was there voluntarily, or maybe _placed_ there?"

"Objection!" Improv announced. "Leading the witness!"

"He is not!" Galvatron retorted. "I know exactly what he's saying. Sit down, shut up and go back to moping." the Decepticon looked back at Cobalt. "He was dead, Oh Great Prosecutor. D-E-D. As in _lifeless_. If the poor fellow-what was his name?"

"Klasp. Now, Galvatron-"

"Yes, Klasp. Crappy name for a victim. Nevertheless, I'm under the distinct impression that dead people do not bolt themselves under plating from the outside. If he were alive, I'd have to say that he was _trapped_, not buried. Furthermore, First Aid announced that the poor guy was brutally murdered before the Decepticon attack. I think that will be all. Thank you, Galvatron for a glowing and inspiring testimony."

Cobalt stared at the former Decepticon leader, unable to invent a comeback. He shifted awkwardly. "Uh, no further questions, Ultra Magnus."

Cobalt reclaimed his chair and Improv rounded his table to face Galvatron. "Well, certainly this is unprecedented! A Decepticon standing witness in an Autobot trial. You must be exceedingly proud of yourself, Galvatron."

"Why? I don't think it's good and wonderful at all. I found a body. Someone died. That's one less person counted among us. Don't you think it's a bad thing that our people are dwindling in numbers?"

"Well, yes. You're right. It is a bad thing-"

"And here you stand, expecting me to celebrate something different when someone has died to make that happen. And clearly, it was a stupid death. He did not die to save someone else."

Improv nodded, "Well, yes, but-"

"Everyone needs each other right now." Galvatron interrupted. "If anyone is to survive long enough to return and rescue Earth, then we all need each other."

"That is true. However-"

"And here we're holding a trial because the chump whom you're defending is accused of betrayal and murder. And you're taking the time to point out that I have made history?" Galvatron stared hard at Improv.

Awkward.

Improv faked a slight cough. "No further questions, Ultra Magnus." and he returned to his seat.

Galvatron turned and smiled at Magnus then at Rodimus and for the merest moment, Galvatron thought he saw Void's head on Rodimus's body. Unsettled, Galvatron left the witness seat and found a chair behind Rusti. He said nothing but kept his optics on Rodimus.

Cobalt stood. "Prosecution calls Cloudstreaker to witness."

The shy femme gripped her digipad tightly and sat stiffly, all too aware of Magnus' optics on her. She hoped she didn't screw up and look like an idiot.

Galvatron leaned forward and whispered ever so quietly in Rusti's ear, "Have you been watching Rodimus?" she did not turn around but nodded. Without moving, Galvatron scanned the courtroom wall to wall. Nothing seemed or felt out of place. But the vision raised his hackles.

"I was assigned to investigate anomalies regarding digipad entries and missing tools," Cloudstreaker said. She glanced at Redial who flipped her off.

"And please tell us of your findings, Cloudstreaker." Cobalt watched Rodimus lean back in his seat, arms crossed over his chest. A smug smile appeared on his face. Rodimus fixed his gaze on Redial and it creeped Cobalt out. He focused on the pretty femme.

"A multitude of log entries were purposefully deleted from sixteen pads and three tablets. Each entry should have logged in time of use and the assignment for which the digipad or the datatablet recorded."

"Who do you think is capable of such a feat? Is it easy to delete that kind of information?"

"No. Even if the digipad or datatablet were broken, the information would be backed up on a separate drive inside the article." Cobalt moved from the femme's line of sight and she noticed how Galvatron concentrated his gaze on her. Cloudstreaker dropped her optics, unsure how to take the stare. She leaned over and pretended to rub off non-existent dirt from her ankle. She kept her optics on the Decepticon and learned he was not watching her at all but Rodimus.

Cobalt switched tablets. "Cloudstreaker, is it impossible to erase information from these pads or tablets?"

"Well, it's time consuming and you have to know what you're doing, but no, it's not impossible."

"What qualifications would you need to erase information from the pads or tablets?"

The air shifted around Cloudstreaker. She sensed a flux in the energy patterns in the room. "Uhhmm... you'd have to know pass codes and operation system protocols. Even then, it would take days to bypass Ultra Magnus' gridlock system. Datatablets were designed to store personal log entries and track progressive assignments. Most users personalize their tablets. So lost information can have personal repercussions."

Cobalt kept her on track: "and digipads?"

"W-well, digipads are interlinked with ship computers, each other and the intranet for the transfer and sharing of data and communication. So, even if one digipad is damaged, chances are, all the information on it has already been transferred elsewhere."

Cobalt held up a digipad. "What can you tell me about this particular digipad?"

Cloudy examined the pad, turned it upside down, scanned the access panels and scrolled through some of its contents. "Someone has tried to bypass the gridlock."

"Can you tell me if the digipad will still work or not?"

"No. This pad has been damaged beyond use. It's locked up and apparently missing its vital database. And see the black areas on the screen here? It tells me there's been internal damage."

Cobalt turned away and picked up a datatablet. "So, what if I suggest that the defendant here was the last person to use the pad?"

Cloudstreaker shot a glance at Redial but kept her expression neutral. "Um, it's entirely possible that as a communications expert, the defendant has the tools and the codes to tamper with digipads. Most communications officers have a level seven access. Blaster, of course, has level nine."

Cobalt smirked. "With a level seven access, Cloudstreaker, does that mean a communications officer has the capability to use the pads and tablets as part of a bomb? Or maybe attain access to a ship's CPU and cut communications between bridge navigation and pilot controls and a ship's landing gear?"

Cloudstreaker nodded. "Oh, most certainly. With either a digipad or a datatablet, I can access controls from anything like the main ramp to the surge flow of a ship's engine." Cloudstreaker snapped her gaze back to the prosecutor. "In fact, Cobalt, you can use these to look up anything about anyone on any ship. You can hack into their personal files, steal their codes and look into their work schedules. You'd have to be very good at it, but it's still not impossible."

Cobalt retrieved the pad from Cloudstreaker and retreated to his table. "Cloudstreaker, what can you tell me about Redial? Do you know him at all?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me how you know him?"

"We've worked together on occasion."

Cobalt stood next to Cloudstreaker so that she had clear view of the accused. "What can you tell us about Redial?"

She shrugged and averted her optics left. "Redial worked as communications sub-router for Fort Horizon before he was reassigned to Fort Draco. He worked with Talk-Chalk for a while but they did not get along. So he put in a transfer to Fort Sagittarius. There was... an incident... um, a misappropriation of equipment. And he was disciplined and reassigned to Fort Zenith on Mars as communications officer."

Cobalt stepped back into the femme's view. "Now, before reaching Fort Zenith, Redial was sent to Fort Sonix to inspect and transport vitally expensive communications equipment for Zenith. Is that not right?"

"Yes. There were several new prototype components shipped to Mars to extend communications beyond the solar system; communications that we believed were superior to Quintesson technology."

Cobalt paused to let the information sink in. "And how do you know about this equipment, Cloudstreaker?"

She hesitated. "I helped develop it."

"You-you helped... you um, you and Redial developed this equipment together?"

"No, sir," Cloudstreaker corrected. "Blaster and I developed it. We had to bring Redial to Fortress Maximus to train on it for four days."

Cobalt paused again and glanced at the audience with mild surprise on his face. "So... so you're saying that Redial here has been to Fort Draco?"

"Yes, sir."

"And he's been to Fort Sagittarius?"

"Yes."

"And Fort Sonix and Fort Max?"

"Yes, sir."

"And as far as you know, did he ever visit Fort Horizon, your home-city?"

"Yes."

"And how do you know this?"

"I am-was-second in command at Fort Horizon."

Cobalt paced back to his table. "And as second-in-command, you are responsible for keeping tabs on all visitors, is that right?"

"Yes. Redial was visiting Japan on leave. He was there for three days and two and a half hours."

The prosecution representative folded arms over his chest and nodded. "Then it might interest you that those very same cities, every one of them, all failed to warn security of impending invasion. All Autobot cities are believed to be victims of sabotage. _How_ are we going to prove that?" Cobalt took his seat. "No further questions, Ultra Magnus.

Magnus granted Improv permission for cross-examination. Rodimus stared at the ceiling. The word '_sabotage'_ struck something deep inside him; a memory riding in the darker areas of his mind. But for the love of Primus, Rodimus could not surface the memory to his conscious mind. _Sabotage... sabotage._ It was important and he could not say why.

He watched Galvatron watch him. Neither of them moved. Rodimus did not know or care what thoughts ran through the Decepticon's meta processor. But a rational part of the Autobot leader hoped Galvatron had the capacity and the strength to focus and lead the Autobots if something happened to Optimus and himself.

As the trial progressed, something inside Rodimus slipped further and further from reality. That wasn't so much the problem; he just did not care.

Improv circled Cloudstreaker like a wolf. "How well do you know the defendant? Do you not realize what he's being accused of? How accurate is your data? How well do you know communications?"

In spite of her nerves, Cloudstreaker managed to remain calm. "Rodimus Prime encountered a digipad with a damaged subsystem. It recorded Redial's request on personal data regarding Klasp. It was unauthorized access. We found data that linked the same tool Rusti Witwicky mentioned to Redial. Some entries were eliminated but there were trace fragments of data that implicated Redial's involvement."

"Implicated?" Improv demanded sharply. "How so? You mind elaborating on that, Cloudstreaker? Because what you're saying is pretty damaging. And you know what the penalty is for perjury, do you not?"

Cloudstreaker sent him a mild icy glare. "Data input by any Transformer is not like a Human typing a keyboard. In digipads, there are certain residual electro-magnetic frequency marks that act like fingerprints. For example: Convoy's EM signature frequency sits at point four seven degrees. Rodimus' EM signature is entirely different. Redial's EM signature sits at fourteen degrees. Mine is two point nine. So it's not difficult to tell who's used a datatablet or a digipad, even if they've erased their name, time of use and assignment."

Improv smirked. "And you know this how?"

Cloudstreaker clamped her lips shut and had to summon greater courage. "I-I can read, manipulate and control energy waves." she dropped her head when Improv stared at her with sudden prejudice. The room stifled with silence until Improv moved to his table.

"No further questions, Ultra Magnus."

Rusti watched as Rodimus and Magnus looked to one another in silent communication. She searched the room, gauging the general mood: somber. Rusti wondered what Magnus and Rodimus planned to do should they decide Redial was guilty.

Wasn't that what the person in the dream said? She hoped it was wrong.

Rodimus stood and straightened the edge of the digipad in front of him. "Defense, did you have something more to add?"

Improv perked and left his chair. "Only that I find it doubtful that the accused here is capable of endangering the lives of millions and millions of people. I question the validity of Miss Witwicky's testimony and I question Alto's statement based on her current attitude toward my charge."

Rodimus sat and Magnus stood. "Improv," the Major-general called, "explain why your findings are doubtful."

"Well... first off, Alto's rivalry with Redial makes her testimony sound more like a set-up than an actual report. How can I be certain of her as a viable witness when clearly, she has less than respectful opinions regarding my charge? Secondly, Miss Witwicky, at the risk of sounding prejudice, is Human, neither Autobot nor Paratron. The very notion that she might have some mechanical... psychic powers sounds too incredible to be believed. If the... young lady is truly so endowed, then maybe she'd like to demonstrate her capacity here in front of an audience."

Rodimus picked up a pointer and played with it between his fingers. "I'd be inclined to agree with you, Improv. Except that in both cases, there has been recorded and witnessed evidence. Miss Witwicky, for example, has been of assistance to several ships and their captains. She has diagnosed problems and situations ship computers have not detected. As for Alto, she is very meticulous in her reporting and more often than not, Ultra Magnus has confirmed the accuracy of her logs and reports and assigned Blaster to double check her findings. All in all, we will call an end to this trial. All rise and clear the room except for the defense."

A strange foreboding sensation settled under Rusti's sternum. Galvatron lingered with her until everyone else cleared the room. He helped her to the floor and strolled behind her. The Decepticon dared a backward glance. Magnus' all-business mask fell away and now the Major-general stole a glance at Rodimus. Suspicion and wariness flickered across Magnus' expression for a tenth of a second.

If Rodimus noticed, he did not show it. Prime scribbled something on the pad in front of him then grinned at Redial.

Galvatron did not need to know Rodimus intimately to recognize that kind of smile. He left the room and locked the door behind. Rusti stood across the way, waiting. Galvatron offered a light smile. "Mizz Rusti?"

She hesitated. Her eyes darted away then back to the Decepticon. "Galvatron, will... um, will you take me to see Optimus?"

"My pleasure, Mizz Rusti." Galvatron deliberately walked slowly. They left the corridor in silence. Autobots passed them with furtive glances. Some of those same Autobots gazed at them with disapproval. But Galvatron shined them on and grinned.

They left the ship and Rusti cut across the towering Decepticon. "Okay, stop." He did. Six inches shy of stepping on her. Galvatron knelt on one knee. Rusti's expression reflected approval over his manners. "I don't get something."

"Ask and you will be mostly-answered."

"Okay. So, they found Redial guilty. But there was no jury. They had witnesses and evidence up the wazoo. But prosecution did not make a closing statement. Defense was allowed to state what he didn't like about certain witnesses? I-I don't get it."

Galvatron nodded. "That is why there were two leaders present."

"Two people do not constitute a jury, Galvatron."

"You're looking at Autobot society as a republic or a democracy. But truth be told, Mizz Witwicky, neither Autobots nor Decepticons operate in such a manner. It is either a monarchy or a dictatorship. Just because there is no jury of peers, does not mean the defendant in question is receiving an unfair trial."

Confusion wrote across Rusti's face. "How so? How could it be fair if there is no jury?"

"Think what a jury is; a collection of individuals with varying backgrounds whose heads are everywhere but on the moment. Not one of those people know the defendant. Their task is judgement by objectivity. That's what the trial by jury is designed for. But in the case of Autobot society, the Autobot leader knows each and every Autobot personally, even if there is no relationship involved. All the Prime needs is evidence and witnesses to determine the defendant's guilt. If there is doubt, then the prosecution will be ordered to go back and re-substantiate their evidence. Hearsay is not used in court. And knowing Optimus as I do, he will not even tolerate it. Every Autobot is innocent until proven guilty. So you see, it's not unfair at all."

Rusti sifted through the information and nodded. In all the years she lived with the Autobots, she never witnessed anything like this. But then, there was nothing normal about their situation, either.


	6. FLOOR CRAFT

DSR CROIX INSEPENCY ch 6

A/N Warning: some readers may find images here disturbing. Technically, this is DSR chapter 12 but due to length, I'm making this a story separate so that it will work better on . If you are new to my work, you can find everything at my website:

/

FLOOR CRAFT

Partially propped on a flat and lightly covered, Optimus rested, optics dark and fingers twitching. Rusti worked hard to tuck her worry and fear into a small closet in her heart. It pleased both her and Galvatron that First Aid thoughtfully assigned someone to attend Optimus and check on him every thirty minutes.

Euonymus checked the Autobot leader's vitals and sent a sad smile to Rusti. "He's physically okay at the moment. There's some weakness along the peri-ductile lines, but it's not something to worry about. It's just that he's not responding to external stimulus. He can probably hear you, however. He just can't answer." The femme gently wiped Optimus' helm with a soft cloth and quietly departed.

Galvatron helped Rusti up then respectfully stepped back. He took silently notice how First Aid utilized Quintesson technology to monitor the impaired Autobot. No doubt the medical staff utilized ever advantage they had to repair and reconstruct their wounded.

"Hey," Rusti's voice strained with worry. "You're missing all the fun. I scared Magnus couple days ago. Took off to find you, Roddi and Galvatron. But don't worry. Steeljaw came with me." she glided her hand over the back of his hand. "You know everybody is here, don't you? This place, Optimus, is _huge_. I mean, I think the complex here is huger than Fort Max. Me and Galvatron dragged you through a part of the, um, hydroponics here on this rock. It's beautiful. It really is. And when you're better, I'd _love_ to invite you to a picnic. And, um, did you know there were birds there? Weird, if you ask me. A floating chunk of rock somewhere off in space and there's a garden and a science lab on it. And you know, in spite of the craptastic situation we're in, space is really cool. Lots of stuff to see. I guess I'll have to get out more often, huh?"

She hung her head and battled with negative emotions. Optimus did so well just a few days ago. Watching movies together made her feel so much more at home than she felt in a very long time. Rusti chose to be strong for him and she cleared her throat. "Optimus, I don't want you to worry too much about me. Galvatron has been really helpful. You were totally right about him." the young woman glanced right and smiled gratefully at the Decepticon. He too, smiled.

Rusti let the quiet fall while her head and her heart warred over one another. She glanced at her silver ring. "I really want you to come back..." she didn't want to finish the sentence, not in front of the Decepticon. But maybe it didn't matter. Galvatron wasn't one to blab. "I really want you to come back to me, Optimus." she leaned forward, hands on his arm. "You come back to me," she said more firmly. "Do you hear me?"

Not that she honestly expected an answer, but Rusti thought it nice if he did; just like the movies. With a shuddering breath, she pressed her dry lips to his smooth metal. "I have to go, my love. So, be good. Don't give Euonymus a hard time. Okay?" she turned away as Galvatron offered to help her down.

"_Bells?"_ Optimus weak voiced.

Rusti didn't think her face could contain her smile. She swung back and hugged his prone hand. "It's me and Galvatron, Optimus!" she glanced back at the silent Decepticon. "Say something to him!"

Galvatron mischievously turned his head left just enough: "something to him." He grinned at her 'evil eye'. "Prime," he recanted, "there is a beautiful young lady who's doing a magnificent job holding a one-sided conversation. The least you can do is say hello."

Optimus said nothing at first. One finger twitched, then the thumb. "_Bells,_" he repeated. "Little bells..." his optics dimmed on, slow as a winter sunrise. "Galvatron," he struggled to focus. "You're not a bell."

Taking the comment in stride, Galvatron pointed to the young woman. "Might be her. She has a little voice. Charming. But it's not her fault."

Optimus' line of sight dropped to his left hand and a smile touched his weary optics. "Hi, Little Bell."

"Aww!" Rusti lost control of her voice and she squeaked, "I missed you!" she hugged his hand again, "my sweet, sweet heart!"

"Oh, God." Galvatron looked away and partially hid his face. "I did not just hear that." He waited for a retort. But Rusti either did not pay attention. Refusing to repeat himself, Galvatron lingered five more minutes while Rusti described her 'safari' through the enormous base searching for them. The Decepticon realized he no longer existed in their little world. He did not know why, but found it amusing. Rusti considered Optimus an audience of one. The cosmos might implode and neither of them would be the wiser.

So he stepped out quietly and grinned when Euonymus almost ran into him. She nailed him with an icy glare when he blocked the door. "Galvatron, please step aside. I have work to do."

"Take a breather, Your Nursey-ness. Optimus is in the best hands in the house." he twisted left and she followed his optics past the windows. Rusti snuggled against Optimus, still talking. The Decepticon and the femme faced each other again.

"Ten minutes," Galvatron suggested. "Let her get it out of her system."

She huffed but took his advice and checked on another patient.

Walking on a cloud of pure smugness, Galvatron turned right and ran into Cyclonus. They stared at one another for a long, long moment before the former Decepticon leader took a step back, glanced at his toes and pasted on a silly grin. "Why is it, Cyclonus, that you always manage to find me at the most awkward moments in my life?"

"You're not married, Galvatron. I thought I might improvise."

"What?" only Galvatron could read the most subtle changes in Cyclonus' otherwise stoic expression.

The lieutenant gave his friend a moment to realize it was a joke before explaining himself. "I was hoping to find you. The Autobots are attempting to utilize a piece of Quintesson technology to repair one of the Dinobots. But the equipment is... complicating. I was hoping, Mighty One, that you might come and assist us."

Galvatron's optics narrowed and he leaned forward as though he didn't understand. "Did you just call me 'Mighty One,' Cyclonus?" he paused. "Seriously? Do you think I'm that good looking?"

"No, Galvatron."

Galvatron held his palms out in surrender. "Just checking." Cyclonus nodded toward the greater part of the makeshift hospital and led 'Laughing Boy' toward the very back. The scope and expanse of the science and medical facility impressed Galvatron-who was not often impressed with many things. The Autobots engineered three makeshift cranes to lift and lower workers and parts. Humans moved around oversized Dinobot parts like ants around a series of matted tree roots.

The scene also made Galvatron realize something more: they weren't working on Grimlock, who was more critically wounded than most Autobots.

The crane on the right bleeped a warning before its engine sputtered. Several groans and a few slurs followed the engine's death. Quazar's voice rang loud, ordering everyone to stop where they were so others could squeeze through and fix whatever happened.

Galvatron used that moment to turn to Cyclonus. "That's not Grimlock," he said.

"No, it is not." Cyclonus slightly nodded toward the milling Autobots. "Springer and a few others discovered a storage unit packed with processed materials. Apparently Snarl is still functional, but his outer casing was shredded by one of Decetron's Pretenders. First Aid decided to scrap the outer casing and make something completely different."

Galvatron folded his arms, unconcerned. "Well, they're doing just fine. What do they want with me?"

With a wry smile, Cyclonus led his life-long friend several yards two o'clock of the operation. A series of crates, control panels and tool boxes formed a small makeshift control room. One chair stood between the Decepticons and a control panel. Galvatron stared a computer connected to three separate operations.

Galvatron sent a sheepish grin to Cyclonus. "There's only one chair here."

"Yes. There is," Cyclonus confirmed.

"So, only one person can sit in here at a time."

"Yes."

"Well... you could sit on my lap."

Cyclonus did not look at his friend. Optics stayed trained on the monitor; the seconds ticked by. "I would not want Rodimus Prime to get jealous."

Jazz's voice disrupted their conversation like a knife to a mushroom. "Hey you two loose-lipped lounge lizards! You just gonna stand round like a Phycian pot fish 'r ya gonna do somethin'?"

Galvatron pointed to the single chair. "We were admiring the late twentieth century Autobot furniture design. Not many of these lying around-"

As short as Jazz was, he made up for it in gumption: "SIDDOWN." he hissed.

Cringing like a schoolboy caught skipping class, Galvatron quickly complied; sheepish grin and all. Jazz hopped on top of one pile of crates while Cyclonus remained standing.

Jazz produced a datatablet. "Alrighty, schmity, here's the first code:" The Trench Driver's captain handed the Decepticon the tablet containing a paragraph of Quintesson drivel. Jazz and Cyclonus waited while Galvatron hummed in concentration over the encoded message.

After six minutes, the former Decepticon leader turned round in his chair, frowned, hunched over and supported his chin on fists, elbows on knees. He watched six Autobots carefully weld pieces of Snarl's new body while engineers tested and retested transform circuits.

"Well?" Cyclonus and Jazz chorused.

Galvatron did not answer right away. He sat up just before Jazz lost his patience altogether. "Well, it might be worth something of interest if we had a password."

Jazz tilted his head, his visor darkened and he frowned. From the background, someone shouted 'LOOK OUT!' and all three mechs turned to watch as Snarl's new tail swung out and slammed into a worker's ladder. Fortunately, said worker gripped the scaffolding just in time.

Galvatron scrutinized the body shape and looked confused. "Wasn't Snarl supposed to be a stegosaurs?"

Jazz smiled. "Yeah. Jes' that Trinket thought it'd cooler if Mr. Bored-and-Slow wore somethin' new and diff'rnt. So..."

"She redesigned him into an Ankylosaurus," Galvatron finished. Jazz grunted and the three continued watching until Galvatron had to ask something more: "she didn't make him into a girl, too, did she?"

"No," Jazz immediately answered.

They watched a little longer until Galvatron decided to answer Jazz's initial question. "Well, the mystery message is an incoming report for some Slimy named Master-Director Caphus. Code Indigo, which means it's above top secret."

Jazz stared at him, confounded. "Serious as a clot?"

Galvatron did not meet the city commander's gaze. "As serious as I can ever be." he skipped a second then focused on the Autobot. "I'd not lie to you, Jazz. It serves no purpose." Galvatron did not need to watch to know Jazz's expression turned to disappointment. "Were there other things, Jazz, other messages?" he asked, still watching the construction.

"Yeah. Couple a' things but they all got that same 'code indigo'-thing in them. So I'm guessin' 'less we c'n conjure what's-his-name from thin air, we're notta for answers."

A slow smile swept over Galvatron's face. He shined amused optics on the Autobot. "That sticks in yer switches, doesn't it?"

Jazz merely shrugged and let the matter drop. He and the two Decepticons observed with a private thrill as Grotesque and three other extra tall Autobots laid the heavily armored shell on top of the new Dinobot's trunk. Those pieces that Snarl used to absorb solar energy now served as deadly spikes lining the outer edge of his back and spine. A flat, heart-shaped club completed a strong, lengthy tail.

Magnus' firm but weary voice announced an all-senior staff meeting over the general com channel. Jazz's not-quite-so-good suspicions stirred to life. He internally responded then frowned when Magnus told him to bring Galvatron and Cyclonus.

Again, Jazz felt uneasy; 'cons weren't on Roddi's favorite people list. Why was he told to bring them along? Captain Jazz hopped off the crates. "Best tag me," he told them, "seems somethin's cookin' on Roddi's stove an' they want both a' ya to attend."

Cyclonus also thought the sudden meeting suspicious. "What about our chaperone?" he asked as Jazz walked away.

The city commander waved it off. "Don'tchya worry none. I'll protect ya." He transformed and maneuvered around workers, sped past technicians and carefully avoided running over patients.

Three Autobots dangled outside the Dancing Siren's port stern, reworking environmental controls when Jazz and the two Decepticons arrived. A crowd of officers gathered just under the Siren's wing, avoiding the occasional shower of blowtorch sparks. Silverbolt greeted Jazz with a trying smile. Hotspot and Brainstorm glanced about the desolate, rocky landing area with nervous expressions.

Jazz nodded once at Silverbolt. "What's up?" he asked quietly. "What's with the tea party?"

"Captain Jamel Helser is dead," Silverbolt answered with the same muted tones. He glanced at Galvatron who did not miss the apprehension in his voice. "We're holding a funeral."

Galvatron stepped closer. "That's not all, is it? Not if both Magnus and Rodimus are here. What else is going on?"

Hotshot butt his way into the conversation: "they're gonna declare the new captain of the Dancing Siren."

Galvatron remained unconvinced. "It takes both Prime and Magnus to do that? Are they going to toss a coin, or are they going to invoke a little Democracy? Not exactly Rodimus' style, is it?"

Hotspot glared. "You mocking us, buster? Cuz this ain't the place 'r the time."

"No," Galvatron kept his voice carefully neutral. "I'm only pointing out the oddity..." he spotted a flicker of light; there and gone. Everyone else's optics followed his. Nothing.

Just when Jazz turned away, the unnatural light blinked three times before a window of static formed along the Siren's port bow. Galvatron approached it first and visually scanned it. Although he picked up no mechanical energy dynamics, Galvatron swore on his own spark he sensed Matrix energy signatures.

The image of Grimlock focused into view. The Dinobot roared soundlessly and whacked his tail against Megatron. The Decepticon hurdled out of control then regained ground and attacked the Dinobot leader first by cannon then by physical force. The two danced for control over the other while the pavement under them crumbled beneath their weight.

"What is this?" Galvatron inquired.

"It's a Matrix memory," Hotspot replied. "The Virus-"

"Excuse me," Silverbolt interrupted, "I don't think it's the Decepticon's business. I don't think we should be talking-" the Aerialbot startled when Galvatron laid a heavy hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Silverbolt," he assured the Autobot. "I've already seen the Virus; I already know about it."

Rodimus' voice rang clear and firm, "when everyone's done staring at the pretty picture, we'll get things underway. Unless, of course, you'd prefer to watch Void TV all day. If that's so, I can arrange it."

Galvatron and Cyclonus scrutinized the Autobot leader whose orange-red pigment greyed into muted tones. Rodimus' optics also clouded with a momentary swirl of darkness. Behind him, Magnus scowled, disquiet and uneasy. Galvatron crossed optics with Cyclonus and he nodded ever so subtly toward Prime. Cyclonus dropped his gaze then lifted his chin once toward the sky, indicating he understood.

Rodimus organized the assembly into a wide circle. A human-sized burial mound lay at the center. The single grave sent chills down Galvatron's infastructural rod. He watched as Rodimus studied each person like a possessed drill instructor, weighing their attitudes by pose and poise. "So glad everybody could come to class today, Boys and Ladies." the Autobot leader said, "I do so love looking at your cheerful, intelligent faces."

Rodimus' expression remained solid, vacant like that of a dead mechanism. He produced a small digipad and read it in perfect painful monotone. "Jamel Helser, captain of the Dancing Siren. We commit you to the arms of the universe. We, left behind in the light of life, may one day follow you. But for now, we shall take your memory with us where ever we go, however we get there. Peace for you, sweet Jamel. Peace for your family. Peace, peace. Blah, blah, blah. Mags?"

Ultra Magnus stepped forward. The fingers on his right hand twitched. "We're here to officially welcome Monsterbot Grotesque to the Dancing Siren's captain's chair-"

Rodimus stepped in front of Magnus, arms open wide, "Serious congrats, Grotesque! Let's hope you last longer than Jamel. And I seriously hope I will not have to come aboard your vessel to deal with your crew! Good 'nuff? Great! Let's move on to the next item on our short list of stuff!"

Magnus leaned forward and glared at Rodimus. The Autobot leader glared back as they argued over an internal conversation. Magnus stood straight, stepped back and carefully concealed his expression. But he did not fool Galvatron. Someone won a vicious argument and it was not the Major-general. Dogfight and Velocity landed just outside the group and Galvatron put the pieces together.

They transformed and held Redial between them. The communications officer did not struggle against the shackles and energy chains that held him at Rodimus' mercy. His optics retained a sense of martyr's pride and unmoved determination.

At Prime's cue, the two fliers brought the accused into the circle and left him to face Rodimus and Magnus.

Kup dared a step forward, his face narrow with concern: "what's this about, Rodimus? What's going on?"

Rodimus smiled. "I'm so glad you asked, Kup! I'm about to educate everyone, here." he lifted his voice to make sure all the captains heard him clearly. "We are out in the desert of space. No aid has come to us, no aid has been offered to rescue Earth from the Quintessons. And rather than working together as a free, if struggling assembly of refugees, we are torn apart and undermined by a few. Do not think for a partial second that Optimus and I have not known those things kept quietly in the dark! You _Paratrons_ were welcomed into our society when yours collapsed. While many of you have embraced the life and culture of your ancestors, there are those among you who have rejected and objected the culture, laws and mores of your Autobot fellows."

Rodimus paused and scanned all the grim faces around him. He ignored the look of hate and disgust plastered on Redial's countenance and continued. "This is a warning for anyone else who's thinking about insubordination. This is to let everyone know that we won't tolerate treachery."

Rodimus produced his weapon from subspace and shot Redial in the face. He waited while the communications officer screamed in pain, fell to his knees and heaved in agony. Rodimus shot him again in the chest. Again in the head. Again in the mid-section. Again in the back of the head.

"Rodimus!" Magnus called, "Stop! That's enough!"

"Enough?" Rodimus challenged. "ENOUGH? THAT'S ENOUGH?! Is there enough life? Is there enough blood? Is there enough death? Life! Death! All the same! One goes, the other comes. All the same!"

Magnus shook his head in disbelief and remorse. Galvatron watched as the Major-general drew his own weapon and shifted settings. Kup, Quasar, Hotspot and Silverbolt stepped out of range. Galvatron glanced at Cyclonus; the communication between them silent. "Magnus," Galvatron warned, "don't do anything stupid."

Prime spun around and grinned at Galvatron. Darkness swirled in his optics like oil on water. Rodimus spoke with a heavy reverb in his voice: "Not forgotten. _Son of Zh'Xn_... stand clear."

Galvatron stared into the eyes of a monster and did not flinch. "Make me," he dared.

Ultra Magnus and Cyclonus both dropped their faces into their hands.

Rodimus threw the first kick and clipped Galvatron on the chin. The Decepticon sailed away and the infected Autobot leader pounced after him, leaping on all fours like a lion. They tangled and rolled along the rocky landscape. Rodimus banged his side against the Siren's docking clamps. Galvatron scrambled around and caught Rodimus in a headlock.

"MAGNUS! GET THEM OUT OF HERE! LOCK EVERYTHING DOWN AND GET ME SOMETHING TO TIE HIM UP WITH!" Rodimus squirmed and writhed in Galvatron's grasp. He hissed and snarled, threw his legs out for purchase and searched blindly for Galvatron's face.

Most of the staff did as suggested. Cyclonus and Kup remained while Magnus made a running start and transformed. He boomed orders on every channel.

Rodimus-Void slowly settled down. From thrashing and squirming he rested then resisted, rested then resisted. Galvatron spoke and kept his voice even. "Had enough yet?"

"YOU CONCERN US NOT, DECEPTICON. WE FEED ON OTHER THINGS."

"And I'll bet they're all yummy, too. So, what have you been up to... Void? Hm?" he watched Roddi's fists open and close and wondered what was happening to Optimus Prime. Rodimus arched his back but could not escape Galvatron's grip.

The Autobot twitched and watched as Cyclonus and Kup approached a step or two at a time. "_Sssss. Ssssss... nnnn. Ssssnnnnn. _DIFFICULT NAME_. _NOT LIKE_... _OPTIMUSSSS_. _NOT LIKE RODIMUSSS_. Sssssnnnnn. Ssssss._"

Kup pointed to Rodimus. "What's he talking about?"

Galvatron shook his head. "I don't know. Oh, Void," he sang, "what's on the menu right now? What have you been doing? I mean, before you made an overkill on Redial?"

"WASTE."

"Well, that's not very nice," Galvatron admonished in a cheerful voice. "He was only a Paratron."

Rodimus moaned and relaxed in Galvatron's grip. "Ssss... teeee." he breathed out then in. "GIRL."

Galvatron huffed, a little annoyed. Kup smiled and shook his head. "Ehh. You'll drive yourself in a hairpin tryin' t' figure the clankin' tread-spew the Virus calls a brain."

"It doesn't have a brain," Cyclonus objected. "It is a virus. It acts according to a program, nothing more."

"Izzat so?" Kup challenged. "Ya weren't with us couple years back when that abominable freak first appeared, Cyclonus. The only thing that stood between Magnus, me an' smelting the Primes' infected cabooses was that little girl."

"Rusti?" Cyclonus inquired with a low voice. Kup shot him a quick look, an expression that told the Decepticon lieutenant how the old-model Autobot still harbored unspoken fears. "How does she fit into the equation?"

The young woman's name elicited a reaction from Rodimus and he bucked. It broke Galvatron's hold and the Virus rolled, pinned Galvatron down and hissed. Rodimus' mandible dropped unnaturally long and large metal teeth emerged.

It took Galvatron .045 seconds to recover from shock and he gave Rodimus-Void a right cross. Cyclonus produced his weapon but Galvatron held a hand against it.

"Do not shoot it!" Galvatron ordered.

"That's right," Kup agreed. "You have to give that gasket bustin' thing long enough a moment so it can kill and eat him." the Vertical Horizon's captain did not meet Cyclonus' razor-sharp glare.

Rodimus abruptly laughed. The teeth disappeared. But Galvatron decided the manic smile was worse than the teeth. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

The two of them sank straight into the ground as though sucked through an invisible straw.

Kup and Cyclonus gasped in shock. Before either of them conjured another thought, Autobot femme Velocity flew to their area, dropped and transformed. She brought with her two pairs of manacles and an energy chain. Upon finding only Kup and Cyclonus, she glanced around. "Wh-where did everybody go?"

"Into thin air!" First Aid answered Magnus' similar question. "The Pitt if I know what happened to Optimus Prime! Rusti said she didn't feel or see him leave. He's just GONE."

"That is not possible," Magnus half-growled. "You cannot cause the physical properties of mass and density to just disappear."

The medic lowered his head, his visor flared. "Do I look like I know anything about quantum dimensional physics to you? I can't help you, Magnus. I have every hand at my disposal so we can repair our wounded and get the flaming Pitt off this rock! Have you ANY idea what's been going on?"

Magnus tucked his anger away. "I'm sorry, First Aid. I've been dealing with other matters-"

"_Voices_," the Autobot doctor answered. "Every one has been hearing voices and seeing things; movement in the air or faces in the monitors... _things_ are showing up in the scanning equipment." First Aid bowed over as he received a message over his internal comline. "I have to go. Something about Sunstreaker again."

Magnus tilted his head. _"Sun... Sssss...nnn_." he put it together and the facts hit him like an engine block slipping from a crane. "I'm coming, too."

Birds appeared on the wall before Sunny. Little half-made M's that resembled birds flying afar; little scribbles like those in a child's drawing. Sunstreaker never really thought much of birds except to bristle about their droppings. He admitted to no one but his brother how he liked to use them for target practice. Little ones, big ones... they all did one thing: drop their bombs on his paint job.

"_Sunny!" _the birds called in little voices_, "Sunny! We see you!_"

"Me too," Sunstreaker mumbled. "Don't expect me to like you. You're laughing at me."

"_You look funny. Your leg is broke. Your mind is long gone. What have you done, Sunny? Whose rules did you break now?"_

Sunstreaker shrugged. His ugly bare-bones shoulder strut softly squeaked and moaned with movement. "Optimus'? Rodimus'? Magnus'? All the same. It don't matter."

One sketchy bird flapped its wings. Its scribbled body grew; lines writhed around the central shape and Sunstreaker watched the detail refine itself. A simple M-shape spread into feathered wings. A head not there before emerged from between them. The bird flew off the wall and alighted on the floor before the misshapen Autobot. "_It CAN'T matter, you battered, misaligned, outdated, water-based freak!" _it scolded_. "Look at you. You're ugly! You're stupid because you're ugly. You're worthless because you're ugly. You're not a person anymore, Sunstreaker. You have no value, no talent. You can't smile. You don't shine. You have no symmetry. You're disgusting. You're just as worthless as one of those Earthen fat ladies who look more like spheres with legs. Except with you, you're just a collection of clanking junk. Nobody likes them and nobody likes you._"

"That's not really true," Sunstreaker denied.

"_Oh it isn't?_" the bird challenged. "_As I recall, you said many of the same things about Ambassador Raeshantzanshap of Y'dor. Not that Ultra Magnus ever knew or heard about that. One of your little secrets, eh, Sunstreaker? Better to be copper-top than a whopper-slop. Isn't that what you say? Well, if anyone in Ft. Sagittarius heard that, they'd call you foppish, you arrogant, worthless nothing! And now you wish you could take back every mean, thoughtless thing you ever said to or about other people? Too late, Sunstreaker! Cuz now, you're one of them. Oh, you may not be round or rotund, but you're still a whopper-slop. Hope it makes you happy."_

"Well, it doesn't. I hope that makes _you_ happy."

The bird frowned. "_So what do you plan to do about it? What will you do about your brother? Clearly he's laughing and gossiping about you behind your back._"

"He needs to die," Sunstreaker muttered.

"_Does he now? You think a single drop of spilt energon will make you all better? Slap a Band-Aid on it and call it good._"

"No." Sunstreaker hated how his mandible squeaked when he talked. He hated how his body made so much noise when he moved. He hated his body. "I'm just waiting."

"_Yes, of course,_" the bird agreed. _"You're waiting for it all to end. Poor little Streaker. Could you be any more miserable?"_

Sunstreaker sighed as an alien dog approached. Its long snaky tail waved back and forth. It did not pant, per se, but it did have a forked black tongue. Sunny smiled as it approached. The bird huffed and stepped aside.

"_Peckish fiend,"_ the bird scoffed at the dog. "_You're always angling for attention. Haven't you any self respect?_ _I was here first!"_

But the solid black alien dog paid the bird no mind. It rubbed its triangular head against Sunny's arm and the Autobot thought it cute. He laid a hand on the length of its head and wondered how the thing managed to see without eyes. When the creature rubbed against him like a cat, Sunstreaker decided it didn't matter whether or not the little dog had eyes. After all, it was friendly and Streaker liked friendly things. And the dog certainly did not care whether or not Sunny was ugly as a Vegan twigfish.

The bird's jealousy eyed with intent.

Sunny stared at the bird while the doggie cleaned itself like a cat. The bird. Black and feathery. But the feathers _disembodied_. All the light died on their surface.

Sunny tried to clear his head of the fragmented thoughts.

They keep coming. Little thoughts that start and break off. Nouns or verbs. But they can't come together anymore.

The doggie licked Sunny's hand with its long forked tongue.

It hurt.

Hurt. Scrape. Bleed. Scrape. Hurt.

He just sat there, confused. The bird. That watchful eye. It knew. All three sat. All three quiet. Still. Sunny thought.

Something was happening to him.

His meta processor melted at the point of each new thought.

He was.

No, really. He _was_. He was lots of things. He was a cad.

Sunny winced. Void-_VOID?_ NO! He was not void! Don't be absurd! No, the dog licked his arm and Sunstreaker let it continue in spite of the painful sensation. It made him dizzy.

The bird clucked. Not quite like a chicken, but it clucked and twittered and it blurred in scribbles as though it were difficult to maintain its form in the present reality because it was not real. The bird came from the wall and things that come from the wall are not real.

"_Know your name! Know your name!"_ it chanted.

"No you don't," Sunstreaker answered the stupid bird. "You don't know nothing."

"Sssssss." the doggie hissed at the bird. "Sssssss." That black forked tongue flickered. "Sssnnnn."

"_Don't talk to me like that,"_ the bird admonished. "_You're supposed to be on my side."_

"No, he doesn't," Sunstreaker objected. "You have no friends or allies. You're just an ass."

The bird laughed. "_Rodimus said so, too. Rodimus doesn't like me and Optimus won't play games. He doesn't like the games."_

"I don't really care," Sunny said. His voice dipped into the grogginesses of sleep. He thought it over, drunk with exhaustion and an ache he could not identify. "I don't," a lazy smile crept over his expression. "I don't care. Cuz if I did, I'm sure you two wouldn't be here. So..." his voice dropped to a whisper: "I don't care."

Sideswipe's voice leaked through the hallucination and Sunny was lifted off the floor and dragged away. "Yeah you do," Sides tried to keep his voice cheerful but calm. "You care. You're just not willing to admit it. You're always like that."

"Not no more," Sunstreaker objected weakly. "See, I've talked to the fraggin' bird and it's done nothing but call me names."

Sideswipe went quiet a moment. "Sunny, bro, there was nobody in there but you. You... uh... well, never mind. They said t' bring you out so they can fix that leg a' yours. Remember? You have a little scratch there." Sideswipe searched his brother's optics for recognition. "Hey, you with me, bro?" he called. Sunstreaker just stared into nothing as though his mind locked itself somewhere far away.

Sideswipe forced on a smile and lapping Sunny's arm across his shoulder line, Sideswipe walked them down the hall and into the quieter section of the Spiral Star. With Sunstreaker's unpredictable nature, First Aid ordered him back on the ship so as not to disrupt work in the outpost's science and medical building.

Sideswipe did not like the idea that First Aid put his brother on some back burner. Although he knew there was little First Aid could do for Sunny's body or state of mind, it still ticked him off that they tucked Sunstreaker into a proverbial closet.

On the other hand, Sideswipe was not willing to accept the idea that his brother was dying.

Perigee welcomed the twins into a sterile room and scanned Sunny's damaged leg. "How did he do this again?"

Sideswipe shook his head. "You'd not believe me, Peri. I saw it and I still don't think it really happened."

She knelt in front of Sideswipe's injured brother and swabbed the broken support rod. "What? You mean you don't believe it happened, or that you can't believe it did?"

"The second one."

Perigee ran the test swab through a machine. While waiting for results, she examined Sunny's right arm. "What happened here?" she carefully lifted the arm and hand. Strangely-shaped metal etchings left deep grooves in Sunny's arm and hand. Some of the grooves bled. Sideswipe shook his head, clueless.

Without making a fuss, Perigee opened a cupboard and produced a small vial and a towel. From the vial she poured a precious amount of silver-copper liquid and caught the excess on the towel. As she wrapped the wounds, the test results arrived with a soft beep.

The femme gave Sunny a final look into his optics before reclaiming the swab. "Has your brother been sleeping at all, Sideswipe?"

"Uh, yeah. I guess so."

"Has he been eating?" Sides shrugged. "What does that mean?" Perigee eyed Sunny's brother with a measure of concern.

"Yeah, he eats a little, but not as much as he should."

"And his depression levels?"

"I don't know. I just know that he acts weird and, as you already know, he does weird things. He says stuff that kinda creeps me out."

Perigee measured the break in Sunny's leg. She grimaced and sighed. "It's a clean break but I can't replace the rod just yet. I'll have to see if someone can make a new molding. I'll have to plate-and-screw the break but it means, _Sunstreaker_, that you cannot do anything physically exerting. You walk. Do not run. No physical therapy."

Sunny bobbed his head as though listening to music. "Walk, don't run. Walk. Don't run. Walk. Walk." he tilted his head in a smile. "Sideswipe runs. If he doesn't he will. Run, run as fast as you can. Hee hee."

Perigee firmly pushed him down and fastened a thick strap across his chest and upper arms. "This is just to keep you still, Sunny. Alright?"

"Am I still? Am I still what?"

Sideswipe folded his arms and scowled. "Just don't move, you idiot," he berated.

Perigee moved as efficiently as a brand new bearing. She deftly drilled both sides and both ends of the break, gently added a specialized shock absorber and sealed it solid. They waited ten minutes then she applied a set of plates on either side of the rod and screwed them in. Perigee secured the plates with wingnuts and welded them for good measure.

"Alright, Sunny let's sit you up here." she undid the strap, unlocked the flat and brought her patient to a sitting position. Sunstreaker wiggled his aft to get down but she restrained him.

A dark swirl wafted across his optics. "Let me go, Perigee."

"Not until I have scanned the patch, Sunstreaker. Then you can go." Perigee hid her fear when she heard Sideswipe's brother growl softly. The door opened and Doublecross entered with an easygoing smile. She leaned in the doorframe and crossed her arms. "Heya, boys. I found the sweetest video game on the Trench Driver. You two up for a game?"

Perigee scanned her work for air pockets or cracks. Sunny's patch reported clean and in working condition. She smiled and stepped aside. "Done," she declared.

"Awesome!" Sideswipe clapped his hands together and rubbed them. "How about a good draught, a few games and some laughs?"

Sunstreaker slipped off the flat and stretched his 'railroad' frame. "You make a good sister, Crossy," he said. Sunny led the way out as Doublecross and Sideswipe exchanged a slightly puzzled expression. Crossy shrugged it off with a shake of her head. A compliment was a compliment no matter who gave it. Sideswipe pushed his smile upward. He liked what Sunny said but it wasn't normally Sunny's MO to be that nice.

Jazz's ship, the Trench Driver, welcomed the twins and Doublecross to an array of 'chill-outs'. Several spacious video rooms offered a number of movies-some of which were merely home-made by those who had not much else to do with their time. Music, munchies and games filled other rooms. Even citizens and off-duty EDC staff occupied the ship's second level. Jazz didn't care what people did on his ship so long as it wasn't illegal, messy or violent.

The twins and their surrogate sister spent three and a half joyful hours competing in an RPG hunting game. Sunny laughed manically as he purposefully shot his teammates.

One shot too many had Sideswipe slamming the control to the floor and on his feet. "DAMMIT, Sunny, what the Pitt's wrong with you? QUIT KILLING ME!"

Crossy sighed. "It's just a game, Sideswipe."

"I'm sick and tired of having to start over! Knock it off!"

Sunny tilted his head, optics on his infuriated brother. "Poor Sideswipe. Doesn't know how to deal with death."

"Shut up!" Sides snarled. He threw his hands in the air. "I'm taking a break. I'll be right back."

Sunstreaker watched his brother leave the room before turning to Doublecross. She took a small sip from her glass and rearranged her character's setup. "Tell me, Crossy," Sunny said smoothly. "Do you know how to deal with death?"

She forced a smirk. "Yeah, dummy. It's call 'reset'. Although, I'm not exactly happy having to pick a new character each game, Sunny."

"No. I mean _real_ death. I mean the stuff that makes you tremble because it's unknown. It's that... dark spot in everyone's mind that forces the question: will I cease to exist entirely?"

She gazed at him out the corners of her optics. A frown immobilized her lip components. "I'm not in the mood for a philosophical debate, Sunny. Not today."

"But you still wonder," he pressed. "You still look at the stars and question. You wonder if Primus really does gather his children after death. You wonder if maybe some of the Human religions are more correct than our own ancient beliefs. You wonder."

"Not now, Sunny," she said firmly. "Okay? I just want to enjoy today."

Sideswipe returned and poked his head past the doorway. "Hey, Sunny? You hungry?"

Sunstreaker's optics lit brightly and he twisted round in the seat. "Always hungry. Never _un_hungry. We hunt for food and then hunt to hunt. Gots us something..._ssss...sssss...iiipe?"_

Doublecross and Sideswipe met one another's optics but Sideswipe kept his game face on. "I got your most fave, Sunny. Um, I was lucky enough to grab it before that chump Repugnus got his greasy claws on it." Sideswipe entered the room with a tray and sat next to his brother. He popped a glowing disc in his mouth and smiled. "Can't believe someone would think enough ahead to make sure we had something good in the rations department."

Sunstreaker plucked up a disc and stared at it as though he'd never seen anything like it before. "What's it? Why's it good?"

Sideswipe snorted. "I don't know. You just like it. Just eat it, will you, Sunny?"

Sunstreaker stared at the light green energon goody and devoured it in one gulp. His face plate wiggled left to right, left to right before he plucked up a second one, repeating the process. "Tastes funny."

"_You're_ funny," Sideswipe grunted. He picked up his game controller and brought up a new character for the next game. He decided not to bitch since his brother ate one goody after another. After all, Sunny didn't eat as much as he should and all too often coughed up what he did.

Sunstreaker polished everything off the tray just as Sideswipe finished his character's specs. Sideswipe settled back and prepared for another game of 'avoid the cheater'. "Okay, Sunny. I'm ready."

"Ready?" Sunstreaker piped. "Ready for another hunt?"

"Yes," the other twin snarled. "I'm ready for you to kick my aft into another game."

Sides and Crossy watched in muted surprise when Sunny flipped over the seat and danced his way to better footing. He spun once, arms wide open. "The hunt!"

Doublecross set her game control down and stood, hands on hips. "Sunny, if you're not interested in playing the game we'll take you back to your quarters."

"No," Sunstreaker objected. "I'm going to play with Rodimus. You do not play good."

Sideswipe frowned. "Okay. Well, you can't play with Rodimus. He's busy."

"Can too," Sunny sulked. "I even know where he is. So I'm leaving. Good-bye." he approached the door but his brother snapped to his feet, weapon in hand, charged and aimed.

"Sunstreaker, don't you even _think_ about walking out of this room! Touch that door and you'll end up flat on your backside with a fraggin' headache from the Pitt." Crossy stood too and made sure she could grab her weapon in a second's breath. They watched Sideswipe's brother hesitate then rotate to face them. His optics, black, glowed an icy blue at the very edges.

"Not go?" Sunny asked in a childlike voice. "No permission to leave?"

"No, Sunny," Sideswipe said in gentler tones. "I'm sorry. But Perigee said you cannot be on your leg. Remember? Just come back down here and play another game."

Sunstreaker leaned over, shoulders hunched. He tilted his head like a confused animal while his body sank on all fours. "Not play with Rodimus? Not play with Optimus? You said eat. We ated. You said to game. Yes, we gamed. We gamed long time. Now we hunt."

Crossy covered her mouth. "Oh Primus!" she wailed.

Sunstreaker's legs snapped out of joint. They grew long and slender and added a triple-joint like that of a spider.

25


End file.
